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JOHN WATTS de PEYSTER. 

Only child of Frederic de Peyster and Mary Justina Watts. 

Brevet Major-General N. Y. Brigadier General M. F. S. N. Y., A. M., LL. D., Litt. D., Ph. D. 

Hon. Fellow S. S. L. & A., London, Life Member R. S. of G. B. London, etc., etc. 

in his 70th year. 



HERE AND THERE 



m TWO HEMISPHERES 



BY 



JAMES D. LAW 

AUTHOR OF "DREAMS o' HAME," "COLUMBIA-CALEDONIA" AND OTHER SCOT- 
TISH AND AMERICAN POEMS; ' ' THE SEA-SHORE OF BOHEMIA"; 
"LANCASTER: OLD AND NEW," ETC. 



"Here a little, and there a little" — Isaiah, xxviii., 10. 



FIRST SERIES 



LANCASTER, PA., U. S. A. 

THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1903 




^ 



<\Q 






LIBRARY pf CONGRESS 
Twffi C»pies Received 

MAR 3 1904 

., Copyright Entry 
CLASS CC AXc No. 
/ COPY 8 



Copyright, 1903 
By JAMES D. LAW 



1000 Copies, Ordinary Edition 
■500 Copies, Edition de Luxe 



Prlss of 

:Ht Niiw Era Printing (Jumpany 

Lancaster, Pa. 



♦ ♦ Announcements ♦ ♦ 



IN PREPARATION. 



Mr. Law has almost ready for publication a new volume of poems in Scottish and 
English, dealing with local and international subjects and in every variety of mood and 
measure : Character-Sketches, Songs, Epistles, Epigrams, Sonnets, Ballads, Odes, Criti- 
cisms, Satires, Descriptions and Narratives, pertaining to both sides of the Atlantic, and 
including his best unpublished work in the last ten years. This will make a volume of 
about 500 pages and as the edition will be a limited one at three dollars per copy, in- 
subscribers are requested to send in their orders at their early convenience. 



"An Encyclopedia of Educational Heraldry" has also been undertaken by 
Mr. Law, and is now nearing completion. This will be the only work extant on the 
subject, and nothing has been spared to make the book beautiful, complete and author- 
itative. The Shields and other Armorial Designs of all the leading Universities, Col- 
leges and High Grade Schools of the World will be reproduced in correct colors, with 
descriptive and historical notes, prefaced by an Essay on " The Heraldry of Seats of 
Learning." This sumptuous book will contain examples of the work of the leading 
heraldic artists of all time, proving a unique volume of great artistic, historical, anti- 
quarian, topographical and educational interest. For fuller particulars twite the Pub- 
lishers, as below. 4(p 



For years Mr. Law has had under consideration the publication of a Monthly Mis- 
cellany on an entirely new plan — " a Magazine for the Million " in fact as well as in 
name. Arrangements are being made to have it simultaneously published in Great 
Britain and the United States. This necessarily takes time, but the prospects now are 
that the first number will appear some time in 1904. The price will be one dollar per 
annum, or ten cents per number. 



THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

LANCASTER, PA., U. S. A. 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

44 Dreams o f Hame and Other Poems/' 

Scottish and American. 

From the Press of Alexander Gardner, Paisley and London. 

A handsome 12mo Vol. of over 300 pages, bound in two-colored cloth, printed from 
a new font of old-style type, on fine laid paper, with a portrait. 



EXTRACTS FROM PRESS NOTICES. 

One of our test Scottish Poets. — Brooklyn Citizen. 

A true singer. — Kilmarnock Standard. 

Uses with point and melody his mother tongue. — Fifeshire Journal. 

Worthily upholds the national reputation. — People's Journal. 

Possessed of a lively as well as of a patriotic muse. Full of intense Scottish- Ameri- 
can patriotism. — London Spectator. 

Elevated in tone. Always refined. — Scottish-American. 

Has a most facile pen. — Dundee Advertiser. 

We have rarely seen any better or truer piece of work. — Dr. Wm. Alexander in 
Aberdeen Free Press. 

Has a fine swing and ring. — Banffshire Journal. 

A master of the Scottish dialect. — Boston Herald. 

A Scottish lark has established itself in his throat. — Wm. Freeland in Glasgow Herald. 

A combination of natural force, merriment, humor and patriotism. Dialect always 
racy as well as musical. — Edinburgh Scotsman. 

Written in capital Scotch. —Perthshire Constitutional. 

Reminds us more of Burns than any modern Scottish poet does. Writes purest Doric 
and displays true humor without vulgarity. —Hamilton Advertiser. 

Poetical power of a very high order. Humorous, pathetic, national, earnest.— 
Toronto Week. 

A master of the Doric, nothing forced, all perfectly spontaneous. Most dexterous 
and happy in alliteration. Tender and beautiful poetry. — T. C. Lotto in Brooklyn Times. 

Broad humor, fine sympathy, homely wisdom, and cheerful philosophy expressed in 
spontaneous and musical verse. Among living Scottish poets Me. Law is entitled to a 
foremost place. His book deserves a place on every bookshelf. — Ardrossan and Saltcoats 
Herald. 

Shortly before his death, Col. Robeet G. Ingeesoll wrote to Me. Law as follows : 

"Your beautiful poems have given me real pleasure. They are full of good feeling 
— comradeship. They are genial and social and human. Besides, they are perfectly 
natural. They come from the heart as springs from the ground. Versification is easy 
for you and many of the verses are worthy of Burns. The comic, the pathetic, smiles 
and tears, are side by side, and in nearly all the poems I find the pulse of joyous life. 
Nothing cynical, and nothing morose, nothing- of night; appreciation, admiration, 
morning everywhere, good health in every line — nothing morbid, diseased or deformed, 
but all wholesome, natural and true. I congratulate you." 



Only a very limited number of " Deeams o' Hame " being left over the price now is 
two dollars per copy, or two copies for three dollars. Delivered to any address. 



THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

LANCASTER, PA., U. S. A. 



BY THE SA3IE AUTHOR. 



"The Seashore of Bohemia/' 



The True Shakespeare Dramatically Portrayed. 

From the NEW YORK DRAMATIC MIRROR. 
" The reader who makes welcome The Sea-shore of Bohemia soon discovers that 
he has given hospitality to a most entertaining guest. Mr. Law has approached his task 
in a reverent spirit, with a wide knowledge of his subject to guide him. At first glance 
it would seem almost sacrilege to make the master-dramatist a figure in a play, to put 
words into his mouth, to present in dramatic form the intimate affairs of his life. But 
Mr. Law has done this in so dignified a manner that one immediately forgets the sug- 
gestion of impertinence in admiration of the spirit of the work. The characters of the 
play are thirty-five in number and include most of the men of account with whom 
Shakespeare was associated. The opening scene shows the hero, as a young man, court- 
ing Anne Hathaway. In the later scenes the principal episodes of Shakespeare's whole 
life are portrayed, and in the last two scenes the little circle of men called the Mermaid 
Club discuss his death. The Sea-shore of Bohemia has a place in the library and 
should find appreciative readers there." 

Kef erring to an appended poem on "Shakespeare's Gloves," our greatest Shake- 
spearean scholar wrote : 

" My Dear Mr. Law : The copy of your delightful verses duly reached me, and I 
have read and re-read and re-read them with ever increasing pleasure. They are charm- 
ing. I think Burns himself would have chuckled over the humor, appreciated the sen- 
timent, and would have been glad to acknowledge the lines as his own. Can one hair's 
breadth be added to this towering praise ? If it be possible it does not lie in the power of 

" Yours very cordially 

" Horace Howard Ftjrness." 

"The Seashore of Bohemia" is out of print. 



w Lancaster: Old and New* 

From the NEW YORK SUN. 



ft 



" Mr. James D. Law, a traveler and poet of distinction, has published an enlarged 
edition of his ' Lancaster — Old and New,' a pint of prose and a hogshead of verse. 
Agreeable and smooth-flowing verse, full of pleasant fancy, humor, local knowledge 
and reminiscence of that time-honored Lancaster. Felicities of nomenclature delight 
Mr. Law, and we believe he could set the Gazetteer to rhyme and make it a work of art." 

" In ' Lancaster— Old and New ' Mr. James D. Law, a Caledonian to the manner 
born, and as enthusiastically patriotic as Burns himself, tells us what he found while 
going up and down this fair city and county, and this knowledge he has most dexter- 
ously and wittily woven into such harmonious verse that the most exclusive coterie of 
Scotia's versifiers would be proud to hail him as a fellow craftsman, and enroll his name 
among their own. Some of us have lived in this good old city and county many years, 
and as we believe, have been keeping our eyes and ears open to what has been going on 
around us during that time, but Mr. Law came along seemingly endowed with all the 
seeing faculties of an old mythological hero, and saw a hundred times as much in one- 
tenth of the time. Coming down to plain matters of fact our local bard has kept his 
weather eye open to everything we have done for a century or more. He has smoked 
out some of our weak points and jollied us on them. He has discovered some of our 
better traits and given us praise. Our manners, our customs, our geographical nomen- 
clature, our big men, the names of our old and present hostelries and public buildings, 
our progress from the ' Hickory Tree' to Rossmere, our early celebrities, not forgetting 
the great men of the present day, our games and sports, these, and a hundred other 
things are woven into his charming lines with a skill and deftness that turns criticism 
into admiration and praise." —From the Lancaster, Pa., NEW ERA. 

"Lancaster: Old and New" is out of print. 



Co 
GENERAL JOHN WATTS DE PEYSTER 

OF 

"BOSK HIM," (TIVOLI P. O.), NEW YOBK, 

AND 

NEW YOKE CITY, U. S. A., 

SCHOLAB, PATBIOT, PHILANTHBOPIST, 

THIS BOOK 

IS DEDICATED 



PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. 

No matter what kind of a book one may produce it 
is impossible to please everybody. Some people will 
find fault with the title, and others with the topics ; a 
certain clique will condemn the language, the grammar, 
the style ; many critics will be opposed to the shortness 
of the chapters, while their length to a certain set will 
be their chief offence. Extra wise readers will find 
nothing novel, and many who do will not be generous 
enough to admit it. Even the envious ignoramus will 
be heard to murmur something about ''old rubbage 
from the noospapers." 

As to the autobiographical and personal strain that 
figures in the following pages I make no apology. The 
book is not only by me but very largely about me, and 
no one who has read the advertisement of it has bought 
it under any false pretences. It would have been an 
easy matter to have knocked out every "I" and yet 
even then the blindest reader could have seen as much 
"self "—and perhaps more, because of the studied at- 
tempt to hide it. In my opinion most forms of frank- 
ness are less offensive than a sickening attempt to 
appear unduly modest; a manly self-esteem is much 
more commendable than the "pride that apes humil- 
ity." 

I have but small respect for those 

Whose pride can ne'er be tickled; 
Could I arrange it, goodness knows 

They'd all be caught and pickled. 
While men can taste and see and hear 

And gauge and weigh and measure 
A little bit of wholesome cheer 

Can give them no displeasure. 
Away with all the mawkish airs 

Of him who makes pretension 
And says he neither knows nor cares 



VI PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. 

How folks his name may mention! 
The ladies don't — the pretty dears — 

In their polite dominion, 
But happy is the man who hears 

Another's good opinion. 

There is just as much difference between outspoken 
accomplishment and empty braggadacio as there is be- 
tween the real Ananias and the fabled George Wash- 
ington. There is also 

"A luxury in self-dispraise; 
And inward self-disparagement affords 
To meditative spleen a grateful feast." 

Perhaps the least defensible paragraphs are those 
where my pen has been allowed to run on too liberally 
in a relational vein ; or where allusions and references 
are made that may only be understood by a few inti- 
mate friends ; but these are mistakes of the heart more 
than of the head, and if not fully appreciated by the 
majority of my readers may be excused in considera- 
tion of the bulk of other good things that all can un- 
doubtedly enjoy. 

If some passages seem severe in tone they have not 
been written with any wanton desire to declare what 
is unpleasant, or maliciously to show up the despicable, 
— but were considered necessary in giving a truthful 
account of what was seen or heard, and are now allowed 
to stand in the hope that by drawing attention to dis- 
appointing and depressing conditions they may be 
remedied or removed by those who have the power to 
do so. I am pleased and proud to say that some of my 
previously published strictures in this line have already 
borne good fruit, admittedly traceable to my pen, thus 
completely vindicating the writer and justifying what 
was written. Even if no better results should follow, 
reforms have been accomplished, and definitely prom- 
ised, that will bring positive comfort and happiness to 



PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. Vll 

not a few families for many generations, and by good 
example will undoubtedly benefit whole communities. 
It is sometimes necessary to be severe, and in the cases 
to which I allude the end justified the means. 

In the desire to give variety and novelty, different 
styles and forms of presentation have been permitted 
in this book with the result that each chapter stands 
pretty much on its own merits. I have not bothered 
myself too much about pedantic technicalities, always 
preferring spontaneity of style to stiff and stilted cor- 
rectness even were the latter at my command. 

And now, to assume the Jiaut ton of the superior 
writer: The author presents "Here and There" with 
confidence that it will give instruction to some and en- 
tertainment to many. He is willing to believe that the 
book will be found of sufficient interest to be read by 
most of those who shall have the opportunity, and may 
even to the great majority yield some pleasure in the 
operation. But that those who dissent may not feel 
either slighted or lonely, and also with a desire to help 
them to a few ready-made ' ' fierce phrases and delight- 
ful denunciations" a brief glance at some famous by- 
gone reviews may not inappropriately be introduced 
here. 

It is now pretty generally conceded that William 
Shakespeare is one of the greatest authors of all time. 
Samuel Pepys was an important man in his own day, 
and he also has left us— in his immortal "Diary"— one 
of the six most remarkable English books. Yet Pepys 
deliberately wrote down that in his opinion Shake- 
speare's Plays were insipid and ridiculous. Even 
Dryden preferred Beaumont and Fletcher to the Bard 
of Avon, and Voltaire could see nothing in him but a 
drunken savage. Byron contented himself with merely 
speaking slightingly and sneeringly of the gentle Wil- 
liam, and including Dryden in his list said such poets 
had their rise and they would also have their fall. 



Vlll PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. 

Samuel Johnson, the great Dr. Johnson, professional 
critic and king of his clan, did not hesitate to ridicule 
Milton's sonnets, Sterne's pathos, and Swift's satires. 
Of Gray who wrote the divine "Elegy" the lexicog- 
rapher declared he was dull in company, dull in his 
closet and dull everywhere. 

Horace Walpole took a whack at Johnson, and 
amongst other beautiful compliments said he was a 
pedant without either ear, taste or criterion of judg- 
ment; full of old women's prejudices; a polysyllabic 
pilferer, an absurd old babbler; utterly insensible to 
the graces of simplicity; his "Life of Eeynolds" a 
trumpery performance, stuffed with crabbed phrases, 
vulgarisms and much trash imagined to be anecdotes ; 
and his Diary like the Diary of an old almswoman, full 
of pride, bigotry, presumption and arrogance. Bos- 
well's Life was simply the story of a Mountebank and 
his Zany. The truth is, says this elegant reviewer, 
Johnson was mad and his disciples never knew it ; and 
"Walpole finally asks, What will posterity think of us 
when it reads what an idol we adored? He also con- 
sidered Sheridan's "Critic" wondrously flat and old; 
denounced Garrick as an endless and sickening seeker 
after flattery, and said Mrs. Siddons was quite com- 
monplace. He decided that Goldsmith's Comedy "She 
Stoops to Conquer" was a very wretched comedy. 
She stoops, he sneered; yes, indeed, she does— the 
Muse, that is ; she is draggled up to the knees, and she 
has evidently trudged from Southwark Fair ; the author 
is immodest as his humor is low. 

Coleridge looked up Walpole and said his "Mys- 
terious Mother" was the most disgusting, vile, detest- 
able composition that ever came from the hand of man. 
Of Goethe's "Faust" Coleridge wrote that it had no 
whole as a poem, the scenes were mere magic lantern 
pictures and a large part of the work very flat, much of 



PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. IX 

it, indeed, vulgar, licentious and blasphemous. The 
same critic said Gibbon's History was detestable, made 
up of a few prominent epochs exhibited by candle- 
light, and the whole only a disguised collection of fine 
anecdotes to be found in any book. 

Coleridge caught it from Southey, who let him off 
easily, however, by simply remarking that "The An- 
cient Mariner" was the clumsiest attempt at German 
sublimity he ever saw. 

Jeffrey's caustic comments on Wordsworth are 
better known. He began by saying, This will never do, 
clenched that by affirming that the case of Wordsworth 
was hopeless ; that he gave him up as altogether incur- 
able and beyond the province of criticism, his "Ex- 
cursion" being a tissue of moral and devotional rav- 
ings, strained raptures and fanatical sublimities. 
Shelley was branded an unsparing imitator ; as a whole 
insupportably dull; to tell what the writer knew about 
the poet would make a disgusting picture, but an un- 
avoidable comment on his own text. 

Gifford, in noticing Keats, repeats Keats, Keats, 
Keats, if that be his real name; and, continuing, con- 
fessed that he almost doubted any man in his senses 
would put his real name to such a rhapsody as ' ' Endy- 
mion, ' ' a copy of Leigh Hunt, but more unintelligible, 
almost as rugged, twice as diffuse and ten times more 
tiresome and absurd than his prototype— rhymes, 
rhymes with no meaning. 

Byron also spoke of the Keats trash, and wrote a 
letter wondering why some one did not review and 
praise "Solomon's Guide to Health" which had better 
sense and as much poetry as Johnny Keats. No more 
Keats, he entreated,— flay him alive; if some of you 
don't I must skin him myself; there is no bearing the 
drivelling idiotism of the mannikin. 

Who has forgot the "Curritics" of the " Athenaum" 



X PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. 

who dubbed Carlyle Blockhead and Strenuous Failure, 
and even so far back as Lockhart's day made good- 
natured Sir Walter Scott refer to them as trumpery 
fellows? Who shall say that their erudite ignorance 
was not highly honored when the Sage of Chelsea used 
their spoiled paper to kindle his breakfast-fire? 

Of American authors it will be sufficient to quote 
what Peter Bayne said of Walt Whitman in the Con- 
temporary Review as late as 1876. Bayne was editor 
of the ' ' Enclycopaedia Brittanica ' ' and presumably had 
some taste and judgment with a wide experience in 
literature. He asserts that Whitman's entire work is 
founded on extravagance and affectation ; that in whole 
or part it is atrociously bad and should be received with 
scorn and disgust; describing it as inflated, wordy, 
foolish prose; extravagant conceit; offensively silly, 
nauseous drivel; pretentious twaddle; showing evi- 
dence of idiocy; sensational, with fakir-like gesticula- 
tions; not more rational and infinitely less amusing 
than the talk of The Walrus and The Carpenter in 
"Alice through the Looking Glass"; mawkish rant and 
rubbish; brainless catalogues; a grave offence; an 
abominable blunder ; unfit for society ; senselessly foul ; 
and finally the most flagrant and offensive example ever 
met with (by Bayne) of big badness trying to palm 
itself off with great excellence. Whitman and Bayne 
are both in their graves, and Whitman still lives, his 
admirers and worshippers increasing daily. 

Have I not shown that even able men are not always 
to be relied on as judges? Have I not provided an 
ample and varied assortment of vituperative epithets 
for hurried literary hacks with poor and hackneyed 
vocabularies ? Have I not proved the folly of trying to 
crush or kill a writer by such vehement vaporings, no 
matter who may hold the pen or wield the blue pencil ? 
And in doing all this I hope I have also convinced my 



PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. XI 

readers that while scum rises to the top as well as cream 
it is not yet possible for any of us to gather grapes 
from thorns, nor figs from thistles ; neither is it plaus- 
ible to expect any book, big or little, to escape unchal- 
lenged or to circulate freely without exciting the skill of 
some critical hair-trigger sharpshooter. An easy and 
safe rule for ordinary people to follow is to skip what 
they do not comprehend, or pray for more light to aid 
them; to enjoy what they like, and not be afraid to 
say so. 

J. D. L. 

Lancaster, Pa., U. S. A., 
November 26, 1903. 



CONTENTS INDEX. 

JOHN WATT OF ROSE-HILL 1-24 

A hunt for a house— General de Peyster's 
Scottish ancestors — Survival of names — An 
Edinburgh ballad— Religious Riot— Madaline 
Chapel— Old Records. 

IN CARNEGIE'S COUNTRY 25-52 

Sutherlandshire — Interviews with Tenantry 
— Bonar Carnegie Free Library— A Highland 
Scholar — Temperance Sermons — Stories of the 
Laird— Dear Dornoch— A Parson Extinguisher 
— Skibo Castle— Mr. Carnegie in his Highland 
Home— The famous Swimming-Pool— Table 
Talk — Distinguished Company— A Game of 
Golf. 

SIR THOMAS J. LIPTON, BART 53-60 

His Career — Osidge — America's Cup — Inter- 
national Yacht Races— "The Erin" — Wireless 
Telegraphy. 

SOME BURNS COLLECTORS OF MY AC- 
QUAINTANCE 61-76 

Craibe Angus— James C. Ewing— John Muir 
— James Dewar — John Johnston — Peter Ballin- 
gall — Andrew Gibson — J. W. R. Collins — John 
D. Ross— Black of Detroit— R. B. Adam of 
Buffalo— General James Grant Wilson— Dr. A. 
M. Stewart and "The Scottish American"— W. 
R. Smith of Washington. 

AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME 77-103 
Lumsden— Auchindoir— President Roosevelt's 
connection — Antiquities — Law ancestry and 
notables— Darkness— Social conditions — Rural 
Life as it is— The Clergymen— Opportunities- 
Village directory — Worship — "0, gin I were a 

xiii 



XIV CONTENTS. 

Barron's heir!" — Rev. ¥m. Reid and Rev. 
Harry Nicoll— Troubles of Cattle Breeders- 
Natural Resources. 

THE SACK OF AUCHINDORE: A BALLAD.. 104-112 

THE EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BEN- 
NETT, FOUNDER OF "THE NEW 

YORK HERALD." 113-132 

Keith— Bennett's ancestors — Schools and 
Travels — Influence of Byron and Scott — 
Emigrates to Nova Scotia— Boston— New York 
— Charleston — New York again — Special Corre- 
spondent—Several Journalistic attempts — "The 
Herald" launched— Sensationalism and Enter- 
prise—His Struggles and Triumphs— Trips back 
to Keith— Interviewed by A. B. Farquhar. 

MODERN SCOTTISH POETS 133-146 

Mrs. Robertson— Harry Gauld— ' ' Poute ' ' — 
Robert Ford — Alexander Anderson ("Surface- 
man") —Alan Reid — William Freeland— Thomas 
C. Latto— Duncan MacGregor Crerar— James 
Kennedy— D. M. Henderson — William Carnie — 
Robert Shiells — Wallace Bruce— Robert Whittet 
— John Stuart Blackie— Robert Reid— G. W. 
Anderson— Jessie Annie Anderson, and a score 
more. 

RHYNIE AN' ROUN' ABOOT 147-158 

The Gordon Land— Craig Castle— The Ander- 
son Clan— Tap o' Noth— Antiquities— "A Vil- 
lage Propaganda"— Rev. R. Harvey Smith— 
Mackay of Uganda— James Macdonell— The 
Duffs of Noth. 

THE MIGHTINESS OF THE MITE 159-165 

A new kind of store— Respect and Gratitude 
—The making of a Multimillionaire— Record- 
breaking shop-sales— An ideal Business-Building 
— System— Colossal transactions— Mr. Wool- 
worth's career— Opinions. 



CONTENTS. XV 

LANCASTER IN ENGLAND 166-198 

Location— Antiquity— Castle— Assizes— Parish 
Church— "Williamson Park— The glory of Auch- 
indoir— Lancaster's Streets— Hotels— Pursuits— 
Warton and the "Washingtons— Roman and re- 
cent history— John o' Gaunt— Wars of the 
Roses— " Look and Live" — Old Customs — 
Courts — "Witchcraft — Prison frolics — Jacobite 
connections— Famous natives— Thurnham Hall 
and the Daltons. 

ORATORY AND ORATORS 199-218 

Beecher — Bryan — Talmage— Henry George — 
Moody— Ingersoll— Conwell— Father 'Connor 
— Collyer— Colonel Me Clure— Charles Emory 
Smith— Henry Watterson — "Ian MacLaren" — 
Sir Henry Irving — Abraham Lincoln — Blaine — 
Champ Clark — Breckinridge — Brosius — Hensel 
— Bourke Cockran — Major Pond— Wm. B. 
Smith— Michael Simons— Corpulency and Clev- 
erness. 

THE LIFE AND CAREER OF GENERAL HUGH 
MERCER (SCOTTISH AMERICAN PA- 
TRIOT) 219-235 

Franklin County, Pa. — Mercersburg — Dr. 
Irvine— Mercer's youth— Aberdeen Colleges— 
Culloden— Dr. Mercer "near Greencastle" — 
Indian fights — Friendship of "Washington — 
Fredericsburg — A rebel Colonel — Brigadier- 
General— Trenton — Princeton— Death. 

LITTLE BITS OF LONDON 236-249 

Statistics— Parliament— Sir "Wm. Allan — Bal- 
four and Bryce— Other notables — "Westminster 
Abbey— St. Paul's Cathedral— Sidney Lee— 
Dr. "W. Robertson Nicoll. 

ROYAL KILDRUMMY 250-255 

Hose wanted!— A noble ruin— Royal visitors 
— Historic incidents— Donald Dinnie— Eirde 



XVI CONTENTS. 

Houses — The Poet Fergusson's ancestors — 
Clova Monastery and Chapel — "Don Quixote" 
in Gaelic— Clova House and the Escurial. 

STUYVESANT SQUARE AND WALL STREET 256-262 
Palm Sunday at St. George's— Dr. Rainsford 
and some of his Sayings— J. Pier.pont Morgan 
— The U. S. Steel Corporation — Fair weather 
friends — Financial sickness and slickness. 

ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH 263-275 

Appearance of city — Statue of Lincoln — 
Burns memories— The Castle— Sir Walter Scott 
— St. Giles Cathedral — The House of Chambers 
—Libraries — A Scottish Prima Donna— The 
Singing Minister— Nelson's Cremonas— Anti- 
quarian Museum— Holyrood Palace— American 
Lady honored. 

THE HOMES OF JOHN KNOX AND JOHN 

WESLEY 276-281 

Myth, Tradition and History— Interesting 
Collections— Knox's Life outlined— John Wes- 
ley's House — His Wife — Tempests and Tea — 
"We're a' daft!" 

GO-AHEAD GLASGOW 282-289 

Like an American city — St. George's Square 
— Libraries — "Scottish Poets' Corner" — City 
Fathers— University — Transit facilities— Satur- 
day night in the Streets— Popular amusements 
—'The Cup that cheers'— Book- and Ballad- 
Makers. 

A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW 290-299 

Through classic ground— Miner folk— 
"Francie"— A lovely vale— Quaint graveyard 
— Dalzelliana— Some stories— Tudhope's treas- 
ures— Shandiana. 

A TRIP IN A TUB ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. . 300-307 
Midwinter voyage— Waltzing on the waves— 
Voices of the night— Boreas at his best -or worst 



CONTENTS. XV11 

— Acrobatics— A Royal Surgeon— On deck again 
—Moral. 

VOICES FROM THE TOMBS 308-327 

Quips and Quibbles— St. Paul's Cathedral- 
Painter's Corner— Westminster Abbey— A big 
American Land-Owner — How Shakespeare stole 
from a Scotsman— Henry VII 's Chapel— The 
The Tower of London— Scottish Regalia— Elgin 
Cathedral— Miserable misers— Grim humor— 
Lang pedigrees — Professional Epitaphs — Un- 
fortunate Texts — Brevities — Country Kirkyards. 

THE POET-LAUREATE OF THE LIVING 

LYRE . . 328-337 

A lyrical Paganini— Linguist and Cosmopolite 
— Autobiographical — Powers of Observation — 
Habits of Composition— His facility— Punning 
— Alliteration — A fearless critic — Rare rhymes 
— Realism— Confidence — "Conclusion!" 

ABERDEEN AWA' 338-349 

Antiquity— The Square— Marischal College 
— Statuary— New Market— Johnson and Boswell 
—Fish Market— Royal Asylum— Newspapers — 
Huntly — Blairmore — An able Cicerone — What 
statistics tell— "Fa fuppit the fite f ulpie "-like ! 

THE BRITISH MUSEUM 350-356 

Biggest Library in the world— Letters of 
Royalty— Charters— Bulls— With the Literary 
Men — Vanity and Self-depreciation — Manu- 
script volumes — The "Codex Alexandrinus " — 
Baronial Seals— First Editions. 

IN SHAKESPEARE'S LAND, INCLUDING AN 

INTERVIEW WITH MARIE CORELLI 357-369 
Cypher— Birmingham experience— Stratf ord- 
on- Avon— The Curfew Bell— The Birthplace — 
Carnegie's doings — Existing Shakespearean 
MSS.— The Poet's Home haunts— Ann Hatha- 
way 's Cottage— Holy Trinity Church— Mason 
2 



XV111 CONTENTS. 

Croft — Marie Corelli — Her appearance — Con- 
versation — " Silk ' '—Her writings— Souvenirs. 

A BIT 0' TWEED 370-372 

Kingledores— Saunders Tait — Linkumdoddy — 
Talla Water navvies— Rev. W. S. Crockett. 

IN BELFAST TOWN 373-378 

A Rugby rush — Transvaal echoes— Belfast 
people-' maistly Scotch'— Industries — A photo- 
artist— Sir James H. Haslett, M. P.— The Royal 
Ulster Yacht Club— "Sir Occo" Davidson— 
Gallaher, Ltd.— Queen's College— Churches- 
Other places of interest — More cities in Ireland 
like Belfast would soon solve the Irish Question. 

IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS 379-393 

Unequall'd natural scenery — Its swell Society 
affairs— Warm-hearted citizens — Fine shops- 
Historical importance— Macbeth 's Castle — 
Cromwell's Fort— Culloden Moor— Wars and 
Lynchings — A Jacobite Collector — Old Grave- 
yards—At a Gaelic church — Strathpeffer— 
Dingwall — Sir Hector, MacDonald. 

SOME OF THE BONNETS OF BONNY DUNDEE 394-398 
A Scottish- American Hotel— Sir John Leng, 
M. P.— A great Publishing plant— Heraldry and 
Antiquities— "The Law"— James Scott Skinner 
—Violinist and Composer— His Collections- 
Some of his Masterpieces — Monikie. 

AULD AYR 399-408 

Sir William Wallace— The Barn of Ayr— The 
' Land of Burns — Shakespeare and the Scottish 
Bard— The Scottish Language— Drumlithie— 
Tarn o' Shanter's Inn— Burns Cottage — The 
Burness family — "Lippen to Yoursel"' — From 
Robert in Spirit-Land— "With Burns at Ayr." 

THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH 409-^19 

Burns everywhere — His homes, haunts and 
howfs— Centenary Song— Dumfries descendants 



CONTENTS. XIX 

A rare Burns Concert — Smith and Nith — Max- 
welltown Camera Obscura— Bruce and Comyn 
— Ewart Free Library. 

VIGNETTES OF LANCASTER COUNTY, 

PENNA., U. S. A 420^33 

"Rus in Urbe"— Various Views— The Cones- 
toga River (misnamed "Creek")— The Quickly 
Built House— Plain People— Leaves from a 
Thonian Diary— Two Local Veterans— Labor 
Day Parade— A Historian's Prophecy— A 
Couple of Noted Collectors. 

A SCOTCH DE PEYSTER 434-440 

Burns 's ' honor 'd Colonel' — An American 
Kinsman — General John Watts de Peyster — 
Visit to Mavisgrove — Burns relics — Indian 
trophies— Historic Paintings— Burns MSS. 

WALT WHITMAN 441-442 

Camden's celebrity — An Interview — Whitman 
described — His opinion of Burns — Some of 
Walt's friends. 

TWO PRESIDENTS I HAVE MET 443-448 

A Lancaster County delegation — At the White 
House— President Roosevelt— Secretary of Agri- 
culture Wilson — Speaker Henderson — At Can- 
ton, Ohio— A chat with McKinley— How it was 
managed. 

SNAP SHOTS OF AMERICAN TRAVEL 449-459 

Washington, D. C— The Trolley-Car Guide- 
Congressional Library— In Congress— Chicago 
— Everything going — Out-door Orators — Dowie 
—The Modern Elijah fed by gulls instead 
of ravens— Niagara Falls— Kansas City— The 
Warm Springs of Virginia— Flag Rock. 

FRESH MATTER ABOUT BURNS 460-467 

' ' Mavis-grove ' '—An old-time Library— Inter- 
esting Books handled by Burns — Inscribed vol- 
umes — Unpublished poems — "Robert Aiken" — 
"0, Elibanks and Elibraes"— "To Mr. Gow 
visiting in Dumfries"— "Ever to be near ye!" 



JOHN WATT OF "KOSE HILL." 

" 'Twas tcithin a mile of Edinburgh toun." 

This is the story of a hunt for a house, resulting in 
the discovery of a great man. 

In the summer of 1902 the writer was asked to try 
and locate the old mansion of "Rose Hill" which was 
the home of the Watts of Edinburgh, the Scottish 
ancestors of General John Watts de Peyster of New 
York City and of Tivoli, N. Y. 

All the available information was furnished by Gen- 
eral de Peyster who has left nothing undone to glean 
from the misty past what has been recorded of his 
family history. Many previous attempts had been 
made to identify the old house and neighborhood, but 
no definite result had been reached in recent years, and 
Edinburgh in the vicinity of the ancient "Rose Hill" 
was changing with every passing season, making it 
more and more difficult to fix the locality with absolute 
certainty. 

In the year 1710 the Hon. Robert Watt settled in 
New York City where he resided until his death in 
1750. He emigrated from Edinburgh, Scotland, his 
residence there being known as "Rose Hill," which 
was also the name of his estate. The exact location of 
this property has been described as "about a mile west 
of Edinburgh on the old Glasgow road. ' ' It was fur- 
ther stated that "the 'Rose Hill' estate is now nearly all 
built over, the Caledonian Railway passing through it. ' ' 

The "Rose Hill" house, it was claimed, "still stood in 
1860 in a fair state of preservation. It was a quaint, old- 
fashioned building, some sixty feet square and three stories 
high, with four windows in a row on every floor. Its situa- 

1 



2 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

tion was high, affording a splendid view to the west and south. 
There was a two-story building, about twenty feet square, a 
little to the rear of it, like a tower, separate for offices." 

The first matter to be fixed definitely was the time 
when the foregoing statements were written. ' ' A mile 
west of Edinburgh" changes its meaning often. With- 
in a mile of Edinboro's Tonn, Tom D'Urfey could 
locate smiling hay-fields where busy streets have been 
for many generations, and every year the mile limit is 
pushed farther away from the heart of Mid-Lothian. 
As the period of the writing could not be fixed, the 
next step was to find the last geographical reference to 
"Rose Hill," and by consulting the City Maps and 
Directories the date accepted was 1885. In that year 
' ' Rosehill Place ' ' was in existence and was supplanted 
by "Morrison Street" which is the current name in the 
present year (1903). Presuming that "Rosehill Place" 
had some connection with the old ' ' Rose Hill ' ' estate I 
took the street cars to Morrison St., and made a gen- 
eral survey of the district. Even the physical appear- 
ance of this tract of ground has been changed many 
times within the memory of old citizens : hills levelled, 
valleys filled up, new streets opened and closed, until 
very little remains as was to be seen some fifty years 
ago. With the data in my possession I commenced en- 
quiring for "Rose Hill," quoting the description of 
the house as already given. The prefix "Rose" was 
quite common to the neighborhood, and amongst others 
I looked up "Rose-bank," "Rose-burn," "Rose-vale" 
and "Rose-field," but found nothing nearer to "Rose- 
hill" than "Hose-mount." I carefully interviewed 
many old people,— including merchants, housekeepers, 
real estate men, hotel keepers, dairy-men, coal dealers, 
manufacturers, land owners, ministers, doctors and 
lawyers — was often encouraged by seemingly good 
clues, but all were run out without good results. This 



JOHN WATT OF "ROSE HILL. 77 3 

drove me back to the public records and public offices, 
and amongst others I enlisted the aid of Sir James 
Balfour Paul, the Lyon King at Arms ; Hew Morrison, 
of the Edinburgh Free Library; Mr. Paton, a profes- 
sional searcher at the Register House; Mr. Hay, a 
leading Antiquarian Bookseller in John Knox's house; 
the best locally posted men on the staffs of ' ' Chambers ' 
Journal ' ' and ' ' The Scotsman ' ' ; the proper officials of 
the Caledonian Railway, and the leading men of all 
other public offices likely to be of any service to me. 
I also addressed a public letter of enquiry to the 
"Scotsman" which has the best circulation in Edin- 
burgh, as it has in the whole of Scotland, but nothing 
new was elicited. In the meantime I kept up my per- 
sonal investigations in the Morrison St. District. 
Simultaneously several people decided that they re- 
membered the house and all agreed on the same place. 
General de Peyster had also sent me newly found data 
which in the main tallied with the Edinburgh views. 
The house had been located where the "Morrison St. 
Mineral Depot" of the Caledonian Railway now is, and 
several old gentlemen who remembered it took me to 
the exact spot which is now occupied as a Coal Yard. 
They remembered the Building well, and recalled the 
names of the two last tenants, who were Mr. Burns, 
Coal Merchant, and the Ryrie family, Market Garden- 
ers. The Ryries are now keeping the Haymarket Ho- 
tel, nearby, and I had a long talk with them in which 
they confirmed the description of the house, as I had it. 
They were succeeded as tenants by Mr. Burns, Coal 
Merchant, who died there, leaving his widow in charge. 
At that time the Proprietors were the Caledonian Rail- 
way Co.— as they are still owners of the land— and 
they purchased the ground from the Walkers of Dairy. 
Mrs. Burns did not wish to move as soon as the Cale- 
donian Co. desired, and the old house was almost pulled 



4 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

down about her ears. She had not time to move away 
all her furniture, and claims she lost valuable goods 
in the hurried and enforced "flitting." This was in 
1869. The old lady is still living and I succeeded in 
locating her in the Braid Hills district. All she told 
me was confirmed by Mr. Watson, the present Eeal 
Estate Factor of the Caledonian Railway, whose office 
is in Glasgow, and who was a clerk in their employ, col- 
lecting the rents from the property when it was pulled 
down. Mrs. Burns also told me that she had heard 
that Drummond of Hawthornden (the Scottish Poet- 
Contemporary of Ben. Jonson and Shakespeare), had 
often visited the house and slept in it, and Drummonds 
(of the same family) had paid pilgrimages to it in the 
last century on account of its old associations. As the 
most noted ancestor of the Watt family, John Watt, 
was also living when Shakespeare flourished these as- 
sociations make the place classic ground. "Rosehill" 
must have been one of the most prominent estates and 
mansions near the Capital City, maintaining its pres- 
tige for centuries. Its site is now given over to com- 
merce and its lawns and fields part of the big modern 
Athens, as much in the bustle of the City as Princes 
Street was in the days of King James VI. Before 
leaving off my researches I had maps and sketches 
drawn showing the exact location of the old house of 
"Rose Hill" on the information gathered, a particu- 
larly valuable (and official) draft being made by the 
Cartographer of the Caledonian Railway Co. from the 
complete charts in their possession. 

It is remarkable how soon the most prominent places 
are forgotten in the march of progress, and particu- 
larly so if they fall into alien hands. It is also exas- 
perating to find how inaccurate the average man may 
be and how persistently errors will be passed on from 
sire to son. But these phases of our common life are 




Hon. JOHN WATTS, Sr, 
Great grandson of famous John Watt of Rose Hill, then near and now within Edinburgh, 
Scotland. Second of the family in New York. 
President of the King's Council. First President of the New York Hospital, etc.: 
intended Governor of the Province of New York should Great Britain be victorious- 
Born in New York City, 5th, April 1715. Died an exile in Wales 19th January 1793. 



JOHN WATT OF ' ' EOSE HILL." 5 

mild in comparison with the desire of most people to 
personally profit by such enquiries as the one I was 
prosecuting, and the itch developed for claiming kin in 
the hope of material benefit. Pedigrees of almost any 
length will be furnished for a consideration, the wildest 
assertions made and even deliberate lies told in the 
expectation of exciting interest. Everything has to 
be tested, gauged and judged, and the hall-mark of 
approval only granted after the most rigid analysis. 
Many a mare's nest is brought to light, and many a 
long tramp made to end only in a blind-alley by one 
who digs into the dusty past. But by proving all 
things and holding fast to that which is good, satis- 
factory results can be attained. As positively as can 
now be done the site of the old mansion has been lo- 
cated, although even the name has disappeared from 
Edinburgh. It is curious to know that the Watt of 
Edinburgh, who was the first to establish himself in 
America, brought with him the name of "Rose Hill" 
which was first given to a tract of land in New York 
City owned by him. Since then the name has been 
copied in many states, no less than a score of places 
styled "Rose Hill" being in the American Republic, 
entirely exclusive of private seats or country resi- 
dences.* Thus although extinct in the land of its na- 
tivity the transplanted name has here flourished and 



* Places named " Rose Hill " in U. S. A. 

Rosehill, Covington, Ala. Rosehill, Mercer, Ky. 

Citrus, Fla. " Madison, La. 

Muscogee, Ga. " West Baton Rouge, La 

Oconee, Ga. " St. Louis, Mo. 

Mahaska, Idaho. " Jasper, Mo. 

Cook, 111. (Part of " Onondaga, N. Y. 

Chicago now.) " Duplin, N. C. 

Jasper, 111. " Cavalier, N. Dak. 

St. Clair, 111. " Darke, Ohio. 

Wabash, Indiana. " Harris, Texas. 

Butler, Kansas. " Lee, Va. (21 in all.) 



6 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

spread, and is likely to multiply still more and more. 
It is also interesting to note that soon after reaching 
this country Kobert Watt added an "s" to his name, 
and was ever afterwards known as "Watts" which 
has been continued by his descendants, and, showing 
the popularity of the new form, notwithstanding the 
great name of James Watt, while there are only three 
places in this country named "Watt" no less than fif- 
teen "Watts" are to be found scattered all over the 
Union.* 



JOHN WATT, HAMMEEMAN, 

An Edinburgh Ballad, 

in which is shown 

the saving of a Sovereign 

and the Preservation of a City 

by the Powers of One Man. 

James VI & I, the Scottish King, 

That heir'd the English croon, 
Play'd mony a time a merry spring 

In Edinbor.o toun. 
But aince the fearless Burghers there 

Garr'd him dance sic a jig 
His sacred air and regal ware 

Look'd onything but big. 



* Places named " Watts " in U. S. A. 

Watts, Butler, Ala. Watts, Lauder, Nevada. 



" Jefferson, Ala. 

" Learcy, Arkansas. 

" Haralson, Ga. 

" Kootondi, Idaho. 

" Baltimore, Md. 

" Clay, Minn. 



Iredell, N. C. 
Multnomah, Oregon. 
Lancaster, Pa. 
Abbeville, S. C. 
Milan, Texas. 
Robertson, Texas. 



" Lincoln, Neb. (15 in all.) 



JOHN WATT OF "KOSE HILL." 

'Twas on a cauld December day 

In Fifteen ninety-six, 
The date as nearly as we may 

Presume wi' truth to fix, 
When a' the place was in a lowe 

Aroon his royal hame, 
Whatever cause was for the row 

Or wha was first to blame. 

The noted preachers o' the time 

Were keen to guard their richts, 
And didna fear to censure crime 

According to their lichts. 
They didna hesitate to tell 

Stracht forrat to his face 
His mighty Majesty himsel' 

Gin he forgot his place. 

This wintry day they had their fling 

The pulpits were as one 
In condemnation of the King 

For. something said or done. 
The Crown and Throne they so bemired 

And stormed so long and loud 
Their congregations first they fired 

And then they fired the crowd. 

Forth rushed the mob from square and street, 

And close and pend and wynd 
With itching hands and eager feet 

Their sacrifice to find; 
And shouting loudly ' ' Shoot !"and" Hang ! ' ' 
" Whate'er the gain or loss," 
The lawless and disloyal gang 

Swept past the Market Cross. 

The Monarch heard the cries afar 

And quickly turning tail 
He fled behind the bolt and bar 

Of old St. Giles's jail. 



HEKE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

There trembling like an aspen leaf, 

Escaped from instant scaith, 
The City's and the Nation's Chief 

Felt very near to death. 

'Gif mobs against the sceptre briz 

How Majesty takes wing! 
How poor a man a Monarch is, 

How helpless is a King ! 
What Tyrant, were he ere so great, 

Could stand for half an hour 
Engirt by all his pomp and state 

Would people use their power!" 

Thus royal James did moralize 

When in the Toolbooth penn'd 
And put petitions to the skies 

That Fate might waft a friend. 
But louder rose the cries without, 

And dreader seemed the roar, 
When some one, with a lusty shout, 

Came knocking at his door. 

Ah, now his latter, end had come 

The frighted King felt sure, 
His limbs grew weak, his tongue was dumb, 

And who could work a cure? 
At ilka thud his leaping heart 

Made echoing reply, 
As if conniving to impart 

That he was doomed to die. 

But hark! above the wild uproar 

Was heard a welcome voice, 
The slogan of a friend of yore 

That made the Prince rejoice. 
And what altho' for joy he grat 

To see the dags and blades 
Of Deacon of the Deacons Watt 

And all the allied trades. 



JOHN WATT OF "KOSE HILL. 

The Standard Bearer of the King 

Was John the bold and brave, 
Who did not leave undone a thing 

His Majesty to save. 
While others dreamed Watt laid his plans 

At once to dare and do, 
And stopp'd not till he mass'd his clans 

Beneath their blanket blue. 

His Hammer high above his head 

The valiant dagsmith held, 
And he would not go hence, he said, 

Until the row was quell'd. 
The sacred person of their lord 

No mob should dare to harm, 
While he had mallet, gun, or sword 

And strength in his right arm. 

Such firmness had at once effect, 

The rabble soon dispersed, 
Once more the Sovereign stood erect 

His recent state reversed. 
And under shadow of the wing 

Of Watt, the brave and good, 
The greetin' and the grateful King 

Retired to Holyrood. 

Yet oft his Majesty recalled 

The insult of the mob, 
And told how deeply he felt galled 

Concerning all the job. 
But only one bright spot remained, 

Howe'er it could be scann'd, 
And that he said was all contained 

In Watt's heroic stand. 

Had it not been for John's display 

So grievous was its fault 
The town he would have wiped away 

And salted it with salt. 



10 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

From highest hill to lowest park 

He would have razed it clean, 
And only left a stone to mark 

Where once the place had been. 

Then honors high to worthy Watt 

Who saved both King and Crown, 
And something more to add to that 

Saved Edinboro town. 
His name and fame should stand the shock 

Of all Oblivion's wiles, 
As long as on her castled Rock 

Edina looks and smiles! 

The foregoing ballad relates to one of the most in- 
teresting and exciting incidents in the history of Edin- 
burgh, and in the life of "the most high and mighty 
Prince James, by the grace of God, King of Great 
Britain, France and Ireland, defender of the Faith," 
etc., although he was at that time sovereign of Scot- 
land only. The sensational adventure is referred to 
briefly in all first class histories of that reign, but for 
the full details concerning the riot and the saving of 
the King's life by John Watt it is necessary to consult 
many local records, private documents, rare books, and 
unique manuscripts. All these fell to my good for- 
tune in stirring up information regarding ' ' Rose Hill, ' ' 
and when supplemented by the data already collected 
by General John Watts de Peyster, the story assumed 
a completeness that has not hitherto been available. 
In retelling it my aim will be to keep as closely as pos- 
sible to the original extracts— in other words to let 
the various narrators speak for themselves, in their 
own style, and, as far as possible, in their own 
language. 

John Watt, described variously as ' ' Hammerman, ' ' 
' ' Smythe, ' ' " Dagsmith, ' ' etc., at the time of the Church 
or Eeligious Riot in Edinburgh was at the top of his 



JOHN WATT OF "ROSE HILL." 11 

profession. He is styled "Deacon of Deacons" (which 
is the same as Deacon-Convener) of "the allied 
Trades," or "Crafts" or "City Corporations." In 
Colston's volume dealing with "The Incorporated 
Trades of Edinburgh" John Watt, Hammerman, is 
shown to have been Chairman of the whole Trades 
from 1584 to 1596. An excellent account of the 
"Trades" may be seen in "Pennecuik's History of the 
Blue Blanket, or Craftsman's Banner," and in this 
book John Watt is given the title of "His Majesty's 
Standard Bearer." An extract from this volume 
makes a good introduction to our tale. After briefly 
referring to the beginning of the Riot, Pennecuik pro- 
ceeds : 

"And so great was the zeal of the unwary populace, that 
taking their march they went straight towards the Tolbooth 
of Edinburgh, where the King and his Council were sitting, 
and would have forced open the doors, which, upon the noise 
of the Tumult were shut, had not his Majesty's Standard 
Bearer John Watt, Deacon-Convener of the Trades, drawn 
up his lads, the soldiers of the Blue Blanket, and kept the 
rabble back till their fever cooled, and the Earl of Mar sent 
a Company of Musqueteers to guard the King," etc., etc. . . . 
"Sir Alexander Hume of North Berwick, Provost of Edin- 
burgh, with the Crafts (Watt, of course, leading) convoyed 
the King to his royal Palace at Holyrood House ; from whence 
next morning he went to Linlithgow, where he swore, 'Had 
it not been for the Loyalty of the Crafts he would have 
burned the Town of Edinburgh and salted it with salt.' . . . 
By the steadfast adherence of the Crafts to their Sovereign, 
even when they did not approve of, but were sorry for his 
actings, our Capital City was preserved from destruction, as 
by their behaviour afterwards it flourished in his favors. ' ' 

In Dr. Lee's "History of St. Giles" the exact date 
of the Biot is given as ' ' 17th December, 1596. ' ' 

A Diarist of the period was Robert Birrel, and such 
a disturbance could not be overlooked by him. An 



12 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

extract from his account is worth giving as it was writ- 
ten by the old man, the quaint spelling being what was 
current in his time: 

"Yair, wes ane honest man, qua wes deiken of deikens, his 
name wes Johne Watt, smythe. This John raised the hail 
craft in armis, and came to the Tolbooth quher the entre is 
to the Checker hous, and yair cried for a sight of his majestie 
or ellis he suld ding the yet up with foir hammers sua that 
never ane in the Tolbooth suld come out wi ' yair life. ' ' 

So that the full sense of this passage may not be 
missed, it is rendered in modern English thus : 

"There was one honest man, who was deacon of deacons, 
his name was John Watt,— Smith. This John raised the 
whole Crafts in Arms, and came to the Tolbooth where the 
entry is to the Exchequer, and there cried for a sight of his 
Majesty, or else he should force the gate up (or open) with 
forehammers, so that not one in the Tolbooth should come out 
alive. ' ' 

A very full account of the trouble between the people 
and the King is to be found in a book entitled: "Views 
in Edinburgh and Its Vicinity," published in two vol- 
umes by A. Constable & Co., of Edinburgh, in the year 
1820. From the details given in the first volume, be- 
ginning at page 147, it seems that the Presbyterian 
ministers were afraid of a restoration of the Eoman 
Catholic Religion. Many actions, sayings and writings 
of the King lent color to such an impression,* and, as 
the masses of the people were clearly and forcibly op- 
posed to any change, the Scotch Clergymen did not 
hesitate to express their opinions, caring little whe- 
ther they pleased or angered his Majesty. One of the 
most violent orators was a Eev. Mr. Black of St. An- 

* King James was unquestionably coquetting with the Romanists 
at this time, and prominent Catholics in exile with fulsome flattery 
were egging him on in secret, hoping soon to see him openly show his 
hand. 



JOHN WATT OF "KOSE HILL." 13 

drews. He did not mince matters, in his harangues, 
declaring that "all Kings were the devil's children"; 
that "Satan had the guidance of the Court"; that 
"Queen Elizabeth was an atheist"; that "the Lords 
of Session were a set of miscreants and bribers, ' ' and 
that "the nobility were enemies to the church, false, 
godless and degenerate." Being summoned before 
the Privy Council to answer for such treasonable talk 
Black disavowed their jurisdiction and defied their 
authority. The King then took a hand and ordered 
the Commissioners of the Church to depart from Edin- 
burgh. Their answer to this was that 'they preferred 
to obey God rather than man,' and they refused to 
budge. The Privy Council found Black guilty, and 
referred his punishment to the King. James, afraid 
of an additional affront, asked the ministers themselves 
to censure Black, but this they refused to do. Again 
they were ordered to leave the City, within the space 
of six hours. Anonymous letters were circulated which 
helped to widen the breach between the sovereign and 
his subjects. A Rev. Mr. Balcanquell magnified the 
dangers, and he was followed by a Rev. Robert Bruce 
who added fuel to the flames, and even went personally 
before the King to demand a fair hearing. His Majesty 
beat a hasty retreat from this interview and Mr. Bruce 
returned to his friends and announced that he was de- 
nied an audience. A sermon was preached on the 
story of Haman, and some one in the congregation 
shouted ' ' Bring out Haman ! ' ' Another cried ■ ' Let us 
hang him ! ' ' Some called ' ' To Arms ! ' ' and in a very 
short time the people were on fire and hurrying to the 
Tolbooth with the one desire of killing the King and 
all his advisers. It was at this juncture that John 
Watt appeared on the scene, and acted as has been 
described. Without question, by his promptness, his 
prestige and his courage he saved the King's life, 
3 



14 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

quelled the mob, and saw the Prince safely lodged in 
Holyrood Palace. Next day the King moved to Lin- 
lithgow Palace and issued a proclamation that struck 
terror into the hearts of the people of the Capital, 
fiis Majesty declared that Edinburgh was "an unfit 
seat of residence for the King or court or for the ad- 
ministration of Justice." This greatly disturbed the 
citizens, but the ministers still continued defiant. They 
tried by every means in their power to retain the sup- 
port of the people, and even sent an invitation to Lord 
Hamilton to come and assume the leadership of them 
and their followers. But the citizens refused to go 
any farther and Lord Hamilton took the letter to the 
King, who immediately ordered the apprehension of 
the ministers, as ringleaders in the rebellion against 
liis authority. The reverend gentlemen received no- 
tices of this in time to escape to England, leaving the 
citizens to face the King's wrath. He told them that 
«ere long they would know he was King, and again 
plunged them into the abyss of fear and confusion. 
When they were all declared by the Privy Council to be 
guilty of high treason the climax of their despair was 
reached. They made pleas for mercy, offered all kinds 
of reparation, vowed summary vengeance on the min- 
isters who had brought about the trouble, and promised 
never again to permit such traitors the liberty of 
speech. King James finally agreed to give them a trial 
in Edinburgh and abide by the verdict of his court. 
The finding was that all the citizens were guilty of 
high treason and that the city should be razed to its 
foundation, salted with salt, and a pillar erected to 
proclaim its infamy for all time ! This gave the people 
the sharpest shock they had yet had. They again 
prayed, petitioned and promised, and even invoked the 
aid of Queen Elizabeth who wrote a letter to King 
James beseeching him to save Edinburgh from destruc- 



JOHN WATT OF " ROSE HILL." 15 

tion. His Majesty now had everything his own way, 
but for some time he did not relax the pressure. Some 
writers say that it was only in remembrance of John 
Watt's heroic stand that the King finally agreed to be 
less exacting. In the end he dictated his own terms, 
and after some trying days of anarchy and anxiety 
Edinburgh was permitted to return to her normal 
condition.* 

It is not known that John Watt profited either in 
honors or in estate on account of his gallant deed, but 
from that time he was a marked man, and an object 
of hatred to the discomfited and disgraced clergymen. 
They never ceased their rancor to him and in less than 
five years he met with an untimely end, for which it is 
believed they were responsible. The old diarist Birrel 
says: 

"Upon the 17th of Apryll [1601] Johne Watt deit sud- 
dentlie in the field callit the Burrow-nmir and Alexr. Slum- 
mon being besyde it was alledgit yet he had feld (killed) him. 
The said Alexr. was accusit and cleanzit (declared innocent) 
be due Assyze, and the said Johne buriet upon the 28 of 
Apryll." 

Calderwood, who wrote the "Historie of the Kirk 
of Scotland" gives the following version which is 
plainly colored by his prejudice against the King and 
any one opposed to the clergymen : 

"Upon the 17th of Aprile John Watt deacon of deacons 
[was] shott to dead, in the Burrow Mure of Edinburgh sud- 
danlie. He offered, after the 17th day of December, to in- 
vade Mr. Eobert Bruce his person, for which cause he (Johne 
Watt) was weill lyked of by the King; who was exact in the 
try ell of Alexander Slummon who was suspected, but with 

* Some fifty years earlier a remarkable historic parallel is to be 
found in the History of France, when on account of the turbulency of 
the Parisian mob, and the perversity of the municipality King Francis 
I. threatened to remove his parliament to Poictiers. 



16 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

out caus, to be the instrument of his death. The judgment 
threatened against this man by Mr. Robert Bruce came to 
passe. ' ' 

Robert Bruce, it will be recalled, was one of the min- 
isters who influenced the mob to attack the King, and 
having been balked by Watt, the pious agitator deliv- 
ered imprecations against the Leader of the Crafts. 
It seems very probable that Watt was killed by some 
creature in the pay of the disaffected clergymen, or in 
sympathy with them, and as retaliation for their defeat 
in 1596. King James had not forgotten Watt's ser- 
vices, and had it been possible Watt's assassin would 
have been discovered and given his deserts. 

In addition to owning "Rose Hill" John Watt also 
occupied the place on the Burgh Moor where he was 
killed. This is clearly brought out in "The Laing 
Charters, ' ' a copy of which may be seen in The Regis- 
ter House, Edinburgh. The following extract is of 
special interest: 

"4th August, 1592. Charter by William LittilL provost, 
and James Nicol, Thomas Fischer, Archibald Jhonstone and 
William Smail, bailies of Edinburgh, narrating, as in former 
writs, a letting of the lands of The Common Moor, and 
granting in feu farm to John Watt, ironsmith, and his 
heirs male, whom failing, the elder heir, female, etc., that 
piece of arable land, along with the east garden of the late 
Sisters, nuns of the Seynis [Sciennes], formerly occupied by 
Henry Kincaid, and recovered and evicted to the burgh by 
a decree of the lords of Council ; also that piece of waste-land 
of the Common Moor next adjoining the said piece of waste 
[sic. 1. arable] land on the north side of the same extending 
in all to two acres and three particles of land measured, lying 
within the liberty of said burgh and shire of same, betwixt 
the lane leading towards the village of Libertoun and fixed 
stones, and the piece of arable land, called 'the tane of the 
buttes,' with the passage towards St. Giles Grange on the 



JOHN WATT OF "ROSE HILL." 17 

East, the Church houses and the yards of the said nuns and 
the stones there fixed on the west, the arable lands of Mr. 
Archibald Grahame, the said Henry Kyncaid, and the heirs 
of the late Mr. James Makgill, on the South, and the said 
highway or common passage leading from the said burgh to 
the place of the said sisters, and the wester moor, of said burgh 
and stones there fixed, and the piece of waste land of said 
moor on the north side of said lands and stones there fixed 
on the north. Price* (left blank). To be held of the burgh. 
Eeddendsf yearly, five bolls and a half of barley as feu-farm, 
Dated at Edinburgh, 4th August, 1592. Witnesses: Alex- 
ander Uddart, dean of guild; John McMorrane, treasurer, 
John Arnote, Thomas Aikenheid, Mr. Michael Chisholme, 
merchants ; George Hereott, younger, Goldsmith, and William 
Penstoun, tailor. Signed by Provost, three bailies, and Mr. 
Alexander Guthre. Fragment left of seal [140, Book. 4]." 

At the office of the City Clerk of Edinburgh may be 
seen the City Registers dating back to the days of 
James VI. The volumes are not indexed, nor con- 
veniently classified, and being written in a strange, 
quaint and crabbed hand, and mostly in Latin or old- 
time Scotch-English, they are hard to decipher. That 
John Watt was a man of standing before the great 
event of his life is shown by the following extracted 
entry : 

"1853-84 James Marshall, Merchant, and John Watt, 
Smith, were elected to be collectors of the entry silver, upsets, 
weekly pennies and unlaws" (fines). 

In April 19, 1587, it is recorded: 

"John Watt was made Burgess of this Burgh by richt 
of Euphame Porteous his Spouse, lawful daughter to umquhile 
Patrick Porteous, Merchant of the Burgh and paid 13/4 d." 

Under date of September 12, 1590, we read : 



* It was not uncommon to leave price blank. 

t " Reddends " corresponds to " yearly feu-duty." 



18 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"The quhilk day in presence of the Provost, Bailies and 
Council, John Watt, Smythe, and Deacon of the Hammer- 
men, and ane auld Burgess of this Burgh before the Decreet 
Arbitrall, is made Guild Brother of the same, and has paid 
for his duty to Alexander Veddart, Deacon of Guild, Ten 
pounds (£10)." 

The "Decreet arbitrall" was a resolution cancelling 
all Burgess honors, and compelling a new recognition, 
which Watt received with complimentary references. 

In some old records John Watt is described as 
' ' Dag-Smith ' ' (which means ' ' Gun-Smith " ) . His will 
is recorded 29th July, 1601, and from its tenor it 
appears that he had been twice married. The docu- 
ment was given in by Janet Boyd, his widow, in behalf 
of John, Margaret, Janet and Katherine "his (not 
"their") lawful bairns." He left several sums of 
money, three horses, some grain in the ground, many 
ells of cloth, household furniture, etc., his Inventory 
amounted to £408 18s 4d, on which a duty of £19 was 
paid. It tells what was currently owing to servants. 
Eichard Skirving, Merchant, Burgess of Edinburgh, 
was the Cautioner. 

At the City Chambers Museum, Edinburgh, the Ham- 
merman's Badge may be seen — the very one used and 
worn by John Watt and his successors in office. It 
is a bronze badge or medal, with design of a hammer, 
surmounted by a crown, and the crown being ' ' a James 
IV Crown" determines the age of the badge. This 
relic is in the locked case of the City Museum, also 
containing the Edinburgh Eegalia now in use. 

In the book "Eoyal Eeceptions in Edinburgh" it is 
noted that on Sept. 20, 1589, John Watt and others 
were commissioned "to consider and conclude for the 
Queen 's entrie ' ' ; and, at another time, John Watt and 
two more "are ordered to provide 40 persons with 
halberts, upon the town's expenses." On March 18, 



JOHN WATT OP "ROSE HILL." 19 

1590, "the King's letter anent ships for the King from 
Denmark was read to John Watt and others, and steps 
taken to get estimates." 

The original records of the Edinburgh Hammer- 
men dealing with the period of John Watt are still in 
existence, and contain many references to John Watt 
as an office holder. In his day the Corporation of 
Hammermen owned the "Chapel of St. Mary Magda- 
lene," briefly known as the "Madaline Chapel," a 
building still in existence, and altho not well known, 
one of the most ancient, interesting and unique struc- 
tures in Edinburgh. It is situated at the western end 
of the Cowgate, and while few perhaps could identify 
it, in all photographs or engravings of the Martyr's 
Monument in Grey-friar's Churchyard, the spire of 
The Madaline Chapel prominently figures. The 
Chapel was founded in 1503, by a Michael Macquhen 
or Macquhan and his wife Janet Rynd, and was left in 
trust to the Corporation of the Hammermen, who still 
own it. The meetings of this guild were held in the 
Chapel, and the Chair that John Watt occupied as 
Deacon is still shown to visitors. Over the entrance 
from the Cowgate can be read cut into the stone a ver- 
sion of Proverbs XIX and 17 that differs from the edi- 
tion of 1611: "He that hath pitie upon the poore lend- 
eth unto the Lord, and the Lord ivill recompense him 
that which he heth given." Many decorations relating 
to the Craft are also to be seen. The Chapel Bell cast 
in Flanders, is believed to be of nearly pure silver. 
The interior of the Chapel is still more interesting. 
The first item to attract attention is the stained glass 
windows. As the windows did not look upon the street 
they escaped destruction from the "reforming mob" 
and at least four panes, still perfect, are said to be 
not only the oldest, but the only surviving specimens of 
pre-Reformation ecclesiastical coloured glass in Scot- 



20 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

land. After the lapse of nearly three and a half cen- 
turies the colours are singularly brilliant. Along the 
walls of this room are many panels with gold lettering 
in description of gifts made to the Chapel, or to the 
Hammermen, dating from 1555. In the vestry is the 
table on which lay the headless body of the Marquis 
of Argyle after his execution by "the maiden" in 1661. 
A notable thing about the chapel is that while it was 
founded as a Roman Catholic meeting place in less 
than a hundred years from that date it was the scene 
of the gathering of The First General Assembly of 
the Church of Scotland, with John Knox in the chair. 
This was in 1560. The General Assembly also met in 
it in 1578. At this convocation 

"Mr. Andro Melville was chosen Moderator, whar was con- 
chidit That Bischopes sould be callit by their awin names, or 
be the name of Breither (Brother) in all tyme coming, and 
that lordlie name and authorite be banished from the Kirk of 
God quhilk has bot a Lord Chryst Jesus." 

Besides Knox himself, John Craig, Melville and 
Henderson, all spoke in this little place; "in point of 
fact, ' ' says D. F. Harris, to whom we are indebted for 
most of this information, "the seeds of the Reformed 
Religion, which have since grown into the Church of 
Scotland, with all its offshoots and secessions, were 
sown in this little Cowgate Chapel." In addition to 
the building the Hammermen also own some valuable 
land nearby, on part of which the Edinburgh Free 
Library stands, and for which a yearly rental or fee 
duty of eleven shillings and five pence half-penny is 
paid. 

The next particular notice of the Rose Hill Watt 
family brings us to the end of the 17th Century, and 
is to be found in the Register House, Edinburgh. 
From the Commissariat E Testaments, vol. 80, we find 



JOHN" WATT OF " ROSE HILL." 21 

"Testament of John and Patrick "Watt, 20th August 
1694." Mr. John Watt of Rosehill died 1679. Pat- 
rick died Nov. 1690. Given up by Adam Watt, lawful 
son of Mr. J. Watt, only executor. The will shows 
that there was due to the Watts by Alexander Earl of 
Moray, £193 17s 8d, with £234 of interest (Scots money) 
by bond granted to Adam Watt, W.S. (Writer to Sig- 
net) and father of Mr. John Watt; also money due 
from John Home of Huttonbell £751 3s 6d. 

The will of Patrick Watt, confirmed 23rd March, 

1698, shows that he deceased in the month of , 

1689, and was "brother of Mr. John Watt of Rose- 
hill." Due to him by Sir James Campbell of Lawers 
£2735, by Bond granted by Sir James to the deceased 
Adam Watt, Commissary of Peebles and W.S.,— Bond 
dated 18th December, 1652. The actual bond is regis- 
tered in Court Books of Justice 4th March, 1654. It 
was assigned to the said deceased Patrick Watt on 
3rd December, 1669, by assignation registered in 
Books of Council of Session 11th November, 1680. 

The Commissary of a County was the officer in 
charge of Wills, Testaments, Deeds, Records, etc. 

Volume 99 has a still more interesting document, 
being 

"The Testament dative and inventory of the Goods, Gear, 
Debts and Sums of money pertaining, belonging and addebted 
to umquhill (former) Mr. Adam Watt, Advocate, Town Clerk 
of Edinburgh the tyme of his decease, who deceased there 
upon the twenty-first day of November 1736, faithfully made 
and given up by Mrs. Sarah Riddell, relict of the said de- 
funct, only executrix" (by right of creditrix, on account of 
a marriage dowry explained at great length). 

From it we find that Sarah Riddell was ' ' the young- 
est lawful daughter to the deceased Sir John Riddell 
of that ilk." The contract was dated 19th December, 
1701, and signed "Adam Watt of Rosehill." The 



22 HEBE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

deed quoted tells all about Mrs. Watt's allowance with 
provision "in case of bairns." There is a most com- 
plete inventory, covering many pages, and every item 
would no doubt be interesting to detail but the writing 
is difficult to decipher and would require days to copy. 
Among the entries are : Sheets, Table Cloths, Napery, 
Towels,— coarse and fine; silver spoons, silver juggs; 
beds, bolsters and codds, curtains and blankets, a dozen 
of Dutch chairs ; cupboards, Dressing Glass, Big Easy 
Chairs, Tongs, Pokers, Jacks, Brass and Copper Pots 
and Pans (all definitely valued in the money of the 
period), Arras Hangings, Carpets, Clocks, etc. There 
is also given a complete list of Mr. Watt's Library 
showing a fine collection of the Classics. A few 
names are: Pufrendorfr", Grotius, Bruce 's Military 
Law, Baillie's Dictionary, 2 vols., Virgil, Juvenal, 
Pliny, Cicero, Greek New Testament, Lives of German 
Philosophers, Bayne's Criminal Law, Livy's History, 
Demosthenes, many volumes of Sermons, Life of Ma- 
homet, Locke's Letters, Boyer's Grammar, War in 
Spain, Aristotle on Poetry, Two volumes Scots Prov- 
erbs, John Calvin, John Bunyan, many Law Books, 
and Books of General History, Netherlands: Vants, 
Display of Heraldry, Cornelius Nepos, Buchanan, 2 
vols., Terence, 2 vols., Plautus, Seutonius, etc. 

Amongst debts owed to Mr. Watt the following are 
named : George Irvine, Conjunct Town Clerk of Edin- 
burgh £283 6s 8d Scots (advanced quarter's salary), 
David Hume, writer in Edinburgh, £104 Scots, with 
£10.8/- expenses, decree against Hume. The whole 
document (copy) was written by "John Watt, writer 
in Edinburgh, and Extractor before the Dean of Guild 
Court there." No doubt this Watt was of the same 
kin. 

In 1727 Mr. Adam Watt was elected Professor of 
Humanity in the University of Edinburgh, and taught 




Hon. JOHN WATTS, Junior. 

Last Royal Recorder of the City of New York, etc., etc. 

Born 27th August, 1749 (O. S.) and died 6th September. 1836 (N. S.) in the City of 

New York. Founder and Endower of the Leake and Watts Orphan House. 

&c. &c. &c. 



JOHN WATT OF "ROSE HILL." 23 

until his death in March, 1734. He was the son of 
"the City Clerk of Edinburgh," as may be verified 
by consulting Dalzell's and Sir Alexander Grant's 
"History of the University of Edinburgh." 

Patrick Watt is also described as "brother of John 
Watt of Eose Hill" in the "Register of Great Seal," 
Vol. 69, No. 91. There is a parchment dated 21 July, 
1682, giving a mortgage in favor of Patrick Watt over 
the lands of Resslaw, in Berwickshire, owned by Sir 
James Cockburn. 

This brings us to the Watts de Peyster Family Mem- 
oranda from which we find that John Watt of Rose- 
hill, Edinburgh, Scotland, was born about the year 
1650. His oldest son was named Adam Watt, who in 
turn had two sons and a daughter, the second son being 
the Edinburgh University Professor of Humanity. 
John Watt's second son was Robert Watt, who was 
born at Rosehill, Edinburgh, 1680, and this is the Watt 
who emigrated to America. He resided in New York 
until his death on Sep. 21, 1750. For some reason, 
now unknown, Robert Watt added an " s " to his name, 
and ever afterwards his descendants used the form 
"Watts" instead of "Watt" in writing their names. 
Robert Watts was certainly in New York as early as 
1706, as in that year and in that City it is recorded that 
he married Mary Nicoll, daughter of William Nicoll, 
of New York and Islip, Long Island. That he kept 
up communication with the old land may be judged by 
the fact that two of his daughters died in Edinburgh, 
Anne (in 1724) and Margaret (probably in the same 
year), both unmarried. The fourth child of Robert 
Watts was John Watts, born in New York, April 5th, 
1715, who may be regarded as the American head and 
founder of this noted new-world name. From this 
point, the history of the Watts of New York is clear 
and complete down to the present time (Octr., 1903) 



24 HEBE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

when the family is brilliantly represented by Major 
General John Watts de Peyster of New York City and 
' 'Rose Hill," Tivoli, N. Y. The Scotch branch is long 
ago extinct. General J. Watts de Peyster, born in 
New York, 9th March, 1821, is the only living male 
representative of the Watts and de Peyster families 
from the original progenitors by first marriage. Of 
his life genius and achievements it is not necessary 
here to write further than to say that no man of his 
day and generation has had a more conspicuous career 
and few indeed can truthfully show such a fruitful, 
versatile and honorable record. 



IN CARNEGIE'S COUNTRY. 

" My heart's in the Highlands — my heart is not here " ; 
By Bonar and Skibo, and Dornoch, sae dear! 
And fondly keeps turning to a' the grand shires 
That lang were the hopes and the names o' my sires! 

When I commenced to write this it was mid-afternoon 
on the eleventh day of September, Anno Domini, 1902. 
Sitting on a fine natural terrace, comfortably cushioned 
with long soft grass, I had only to raise my head to see 
as pretty a bit of scenery as any shire in Scotland could 
show. The little post-office of Spinningdale was at my 
back, and also the turnpike that runs from Bonar 
Bridge to Dornoch, and much farther, doubtless, in 
both directions. In front was the lovely Dornoch Firth, 
hemmed in by heath-clad hills, rocky steeps, smiling 
fields, woods, glens and grassy links. It had been 
"Carnegie's country" since I crossed the Bonar 
Bridge, which spans the Kyle, or Estuary, that sepa- 
rates Ross from Sutherland. 

The nearest station on the Highland Railway is Ard- 
gay, and at the "Balnagown Arms" there I found ex- 
cellent accommodations, and the best fare, at very 
moderate figures. A three-horse carriage was at the 
depot, and a glance told me it was one of the many 
turnouts belonging to the Laird of Skibo; but, al- 
though welcome to use the conveyance, as I was there 
by invitation of the owner, walking being one of my 
particular fads (when the distance is not too great), I 
decided to leave the wheels to others, and put my trust 
in my never-failing "Shank's mare." 

I had been told I would find "mine host" of the Bal- 
nagown Arms a rare fellow, full of fun and anecdote, 
if I was not too particular as to facts. ' ' But the wife 's 

25 



26 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

a' richt," was added. "Whatever she tells ye can 
be believed." 

After a short rest I crossed the Kyle to Sutherland, 
and at once found myself on the Skibo estate. 

Without being offensively inquisitive, having a good 
Scotch tongue in my head, I did not fail to ' ' speir ' ' or 
ask whatever questions might occur to me in my wan- 
derings among the natives. Some were stiff to talk, 
eyeing me somewhat suspiciously at times, but in the 
majority of cases— and I chatted with many— I suc- 
ceeded in finding what I sought. "Carnegie is a good 
laird. " " He has put lots of money in circulation here. ' ' 
"My trade has quadrupled in the last four years, and 
I can trace it directly to Skibo." "He and his Lady 
are very kind to the children, and give them books and 
toys every year." "Last year he gave us £5, as my 
husband was sick, and Mrs. Carnegie put £5 to that." 
Such are fair specimens of the statements made to me. 
The nearest approach to an adverse comment from the 
village was made by a tailor, who summed up his opin- 
ion by saying: "Carnegie is a fine gentleman," and 
adding, after a long pause— "in the leebrary line." 
I had not been long in Bonar when I was asked to go 
and see the Carnegie Free Library. 

I found a nice two-story building, faced with yellow- 
ish free-stone, and surmounted by a neat clock, which 
struck the hours, and, as I was informed, was "an un- 
common fine timekeeper. ' ' Over the door, and on each 
wing of the inside glass door, may be seen the well- 
known legend, "Carnegie Free Library." Tablets, 
with inscriptions, are on the front of the building, one 
on each side of the window, below the clock. On the 
left side my be read: 

"All that mankind has done, 
thought, gained, or been, it is 
lying as in magic preservation 
in the pages of books." 



in Carnegie's country. 27 

On the right side is the same sentiment in Gaelic, 
which I copy as a curiosity : 

"THA NA-H-UILE NITHE 

A CHNUSAICH, A 

RINN, A BHUNNAICH, 

NO A BHA DAOINE, 

TAISCTE, CLEIDHTE, CU 

MIORBHUILEACH ANN 

AN LEABHRAICHIBH."* 

The library building has two nice rooms upstairs, 
one devoted to newspapers and magazines and the other 
to games, such as chess and checkers. In the reading 
room I noticed a magnificent, statistical, up-to-date 
map of the world, with special attention given to the 
British Empire in all its ramifications. A glance at the 
large areas covered, and a perusal of the eloquent fig- 
ures shown, should be enough to touch the pride and 
stiffen the patriotism of anyone acknowledging Edward 
VII. and I. as King. From a casual look, it appeared 
to me as if even Uncle Sam had to play second fiddle. 

The lower floor of the library is equally divided, be- 
tween the lending department, where books are kept, 
and the residence of the man who acts as librarian. 
"He gets the sensational salary of £5 a year," said my 
guide, "but (in condonation, added) has free light, fire 
and house. ' ' The reading room and chess room can be 



* The passage, though not credited, is, I believe, from Carlyle. I am 
away from all libraries or books of reference, and cannot verify it. A 
local critic informed me that the Gaelic version was badly bungled. 
" ' Magic ' has been translated ' miraculous,' " said he, " and there are 
other errors." As he talked I paraphrased it for better remembrance: 

" All that man has done or thought, 
All that man has gained or been, 

Wheresoe'er it may be sought, 
But in books it may be seen; 

There, as if by magic art 

Caught and saved and set apart." 



28 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

found open at any reasonable time, but the lending 
department can only be patronized at certain bours. I 
found the library with a stock of over 600 well-selected 
volumes, nearly all presented by Mr. or Mrs. Carnegie. 
A new library feature to me was the stereoscopic sec- 
tion, and as a supplement to books and magazines it is 
an excellent idea. There were six volumes of 36 views 
each, and two instruments, all the gift of Mr. Carnegie, 
and I understand he has equally equipped hundreds of 
other libraries here and abroad. The view-sets are 
handsomely kept in cases that look like books, labeled 
with such titles as : " Through Egypt with the Stereo- 
scope," "Through India with the Stereoscope," etc., 
etc. The only weak feature I found in the library was 
an almost total lack of " local" literature— books and 
pamphlets pertaining to the parish, shire and district. 
To my mind this is of the very first importance, and in 
making a suggestion to the librarian for such a depart- 
ment I think I made some small return for the pleasure 
I had gained in visiting his treasure-house. 

While in the libary I had the rare good fortune to 
make the acquaintance of a most intelligent man, a real 
prize of a fellow and as modest as he was well informed. 
His name is Donald Mackenzie, and he is the Inland 
Eevenue Officer, stationed at Bonar. Finding that I 
was interested in the history and antiquities of the 
place, as he was at leisure for the day he very kindly 
spent it with me. He told me all about the Battle of 
Drumliadh, under the best possible auspices, while we 
walked amongst the graves of those who were slain at 
that great contest. It was one of the many fights be- 
tween the Scandinavians and the native Scots, and took 
place about the middle of the ninth century. The hill 
and wood back of Bonar are strewn with hundreds of 
graves, some marked by loose cairns, and others by 
grassy or heather-covered mounds. The Scandinavians, 



in carnegie's country. 29 

under Sigurd, Earl of Orkney, landed at the "Meikle 
Ferry," leaving their fleet at anchor in the Dornoch 
Firth. As usual, on such occasions, the Scotch sent out 
the "Fiery Cross" to gather the natives from far and 
near. As the Danes marched inland the Scots retreated, 
all the time gaining reinforcements from the collecting 
clans. When it was decided that their numbers were 
sufficient they made a stand and gave battle. Tradition 
asserts it was one of the greatest struggles of centuries, 
and if the evidences of to-day can be believed, it was 
no ordinary fight. Sigurd himself was slain, and his 
army completely routed. The very spot is pointed out 
where the famous warrior fell, and his grave is also 
shown in the neighborhood. Two extra large cairns 
mark where other chiefs were buried. When the 
mounds were excavated some years ago stone coffins and 
bones were found, and parts of the coffins are still to be 
seen there. 

As we climbed to the top of " Carnnam-fitheach " 
(Cairn of Ravens) my guide pointed out to me across the 
Kyle the district of Carbisdaile (now Culrain) where 
Montrose made his last stand. There he encountered 
Strachan's Horse, on April 27, 1650, and was so badly 
defeated he fled to the Wilds of Assynt. Captured 
there, he was brought a prisoner to Skibo Castle. I read 
a quaintly-worded account of the whole proceedings, 
written by a contemporary. A good story is told about 
the Earl during his confinement at Skibo. A Mrs. 
Gray was the Lady of the Castle at the time, and she 
insisted on placing Montrose at the head of the table, 
much to the disgust of his captors. When one officer 
made a grumbling protest against such honor being 
shown their prisoner, Mrs. Gray flung a leg of mutton 
at him, as she forcibly said, "to teach him better man- 
ners." After a short stay at Skibo, Montrose was 
taken to Edinburgh, and there executed on May 21, 
4 



30 HEEE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

less than a month from the time he met his victorious 
foemen. 

From the top of another knoll we had a view of Loch 
Migdale, nestling at the foot of Migdale Rock, rising 
over 700 feet from the water's level. Cairn-Chrain, 
nearby, is 2,080 feet in height, and Ben More, in the 
distance, over 3,000 feet. 

We had the hills all to ourselves that particular after- 
noon. I saw very little game, an occasional rabbit or 
stray grouse only being disturbed by our approach. My 
guide informed me that "the deer are very plentiful 
here." "Mr. Carnegie is not a shot," they say, "but 
seems to have much pleasure in fishing. He rents his 
shootings, like many a needy laird, but not for need 
of the rental." 

As the gloaming began to gather, I accepted an invi- 
tation to spend an hour amongst Mr. Mackenzie 's books. 
Here was a genuine and pleasant surprise, and I doubt 
of all Mr. Carnegie's many visitors, if any one but 
myself has been privileged to see this quiet Highland 
scholar's unique collection. As a Tinker woman on the 
roadside put it to me: "How much the rich people 
miss! They go from train to carriage and from car- 
riage to castle, and the same way back again, only 
looking at a new drawing-room or a different din- 
ing-room from the own." This was only another 
version of Mark Guy Pearse's recipe for getting 
good stories and real knowledge of the great big heart 
of humanity. And have not Walter Scott and Abra- 
ham Lincoln eloquently testified to the valuable lessons 
learned from communion with the common people? 
But, of course, this is only half the truth. The castle 
can give lessons as well as the cottage, and if one has 
the proper ability "all is grist to his mill." Donald 
Mackenzie's library consists of only about 500 volumes, 
but there is not a common book in it. It is strong on 



in carnegie's country. 31 

Gaelic literature, and of that I am not competent to 
write. His Doric Scotch collection amazed me, and I 
am positive he has many works in it that are not dupli- 
cated north of Inverness. Here, for the first time, I saw 
a collection of the Addenda to Henderson's Scotch 
Proverbs. It is a small pamphlet, but worth tons of 
ordinary Scotch or English books. I found, also, every 
book worth having on local history, and could then un- 
derstand the source of "Big Donald's" marvelous 
knowledge of the district. He has also a rare collection 
of facetia, curious anecdotes and witty sayings, and is 
particularly strong on theology, orthodox and het- 
erodox. Who would have expected to find the best 
treatises on Phallic Worship at far-off, out-of-the- 
way Bonar Bridge? Yet here they were, and not 
kept for show, but perused and studied until they were 
mastered. Donald does his own thinking, and I learned 
from others that he was "not in the best of books" of 
some of the local ministers, but was by every one con- 
sidered ' ' a match for any. ' ' He has also a little museum 
of curiosities worth seeing. He tells a laughable tale 
about one of his own curios. Mr. Carnegie expressed 
a wish to have a specimen of man-trap to forward to 
the Carnegie Institute at Pittsburg, and Donald, who 
had two samples, gave one to a local hotel man to give 
to Mr. Carnegie. It was accepted with thanks and the 
boniface asked to ship it on. Months passed and no- 
thing was heard of the valuable consignment. After 
much inquiry, the man-trap was finally located at St. 
Petersburg, Russia, to where it had been addressed! 
Pittsburg or St. Petersburg were equally out of the 
world to mine host of the village hotel ; but ' ' all 's well 
that ends well, ' ' and, although somewhat delayed by its 
roundabout journey, the precious man-trap finally 
found a resting place in Mr. Carnegie's big museum 
and may now be seen there. 



32 HEKB AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

The Skibo estate is in the county of Sutherland, from 
which the Duke of Sutherland takes his title. His 
Grace is proprietor of one and a half million acres, 
making him the biggest land owner in Scotland, as he 
is conceded to be one of the best. His castle of Dun- 
robin is not only the finest in the north of Scotland, but 
one of the grandest in Great Britain. The present 
Duke and Duchess are popular with all classes, and 
considering their exalted station, it is remarked with 
wonder that they seem to be as happy as well doing 
common people. 

"A man may own a rich estate, 

Have palace, park and a' that, 
Yet not for birth but honest worth 

Be thrice a man for a' that; 
"While Donald herding on the moor, 

Who beats his wife and a' that, 
Be nothing but a rascal boor, 

Not half a man for a' that!"* 

The old-time Dukes of Sutherland were Chiefs of the 
Clan Chattan, that is, "of the Clan of Cats." This 
shire was known as ' ' The Wild Cat County, ' ' from the 



Wha lives will be as bold as say 

And to it stan', for a' that, 
That he that may an earldom ha'e 

Is nae a man for a' that? 
Tho' some may whiles their duties jouk, 

It's yet the case, for a' that, 
To be a lord or be a duke 

Is nae disgrace, for a' that. 

But nobledom is sae beset 

Wi' pleasure's snares, and a' that, 
Wi' a' the fret o' etiquette, 

And fashions cares, and a' that, 
That for a chiel to struggle thro' 

And show his grit, for a' that, 
Is nae a little feat to do 

We maun admit, for a' that. 



in caknegie's countky. 33 

many wild cats to be found in it. They are now extinct, 
but in by-gone days were valuable allies to the fighting 
natives. Tradition tells that Sutherland was once in- 
vaded by a hostile band which, on landing, was opposed 
by an advance guard of furious wild cats, and so well 
did they defend the coast that the enemy skedaddled 
without coming to the scratch ! 

Skibo has a good share of antiquities, vitrified forts, 
standing stones, ancient hut circles, and such like. In 
the parish churchyard I noted many gravestones too 
old and worn to be deciphered. A fine specimen of a 
vitrified fort is to be seen a little off the road at a place 
called Dun-creich. ' ' Creich ' ' is the name of the parish, 
and "Dun" means a castle on a hill, so the name, like 
many more, tells its own story. 

From Bonar Village, on the way to Skibo Castle, the 
road passes through a fringe of larch, fir and spruce 
trees, through which may be seen, to the right, the blue 
water of the Kyle, smooth and calm, and reflecting in 
every detail the Hills of Ross, on the opposite shore. 
To the left of the road, at this part, are steep heather- 
clad braes more densely wooded. It is a place of soli- 
tude and peace, only the whistle of an easy-going train 
or the report of a far-off sportsman's gun reminding 
one, with their softened echoes, of the distant work-a- 
day world. With every twist of the turnpike new and 
delightful scenery is encountered. At Spinningdale 
the ruins of an old spinning mill tell the traveler why 
the little hamlet sprang into being in this out-of-the-way 
corner. After a destructive fire the factory was never 
rebuilt, which was no doubt a severe blow to the vil- 
lagers at the time. Now their little place has become 
quite a fashionable summer resort, with all the cot- 
tages rented, and new ones being erected every season. 

There is a small Carnegie Library here in a beautiful 
building by the roadside, and as the hamlet expands the 



34 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

institution will not lack for patronage. I had a pleasant 
interview with the schoolmaster of the district, who 
gave me his opinion of things in general, and Mr. Car- 
negie in particular. He said the Laird of Skibo was a 
' ' clinker, ' ' which was a new word to me, but after in- 
vestigation and explanation I found it was a local syno- 
nym for such words as "corker," "buster," or any- 
thing that is superexcellent. I stopped a night at 
Vass's, the most prominent house in the place. Mr. 
Vass keeps a general shop, a horse-hiring establishment, 
and also has a license to sell spirits "to be consumed off 
the premises. ' ' He is a thriving man, and will dispense 
a bottle of beer or conduct family worship with equal 
readiness. When the time arrives for him to "take the 
Book," which means to commence religious services, 
the door of the shop is locked and the spirituous gives 
way to the spiritual. There are some funny stories 
told of an occasional mix-up, but doubtless they are 
considerably colored and magnified by jealous and en- 
vious neighbors. It will be remembered that a Mr. Vass 
acted as ghillie to Johnson and Boswell when on their 
Highland tour. 

It seems that Mr. Carnegie has made up his mind to 
root out every place on his estate where intoxicating 
liquors can be sold, and in Vass 's establishment only is 
any kind of strong drink obtainable. All the women 
and the well-behaved men applaud this policy, and point 
with pride to the changed aspect of things around 
Clashmore since the last inn there was closed. It used 
to be a storm center of disturbance night and day as 
long as it was the rallying point for the workmen em- 
ployed on Skibo Castle improvements, or attached to 
the general estate staff. Now a man with a spark in his 
throat has to go a long distance to ' ' lay the lowe, ' ' and 
the net result is that excessive drinking on Skibo is 
practically unknown. Furthermore, Mr. Carnegie re- 



in carnegie's country. 35 

wards all in his employ who are total abstainers for a 
whole year with a ten per cent, premium on their year's 
wages. Yes, "he is very much down on drink," and 
by his methods of handling the problem he has not 
only been successful at Skibo, but ranks with the very 
foremost who have satisfactorily vanquished "the ser- 
pent of the still." If all Lairds in Scotland were to 
take as much interest in their tenantry and servants 
Caledonia would lead all countries as a temperate 
nation. 

I was also told that Mr. Carnegie was more than 
generous in his dealings with those in his employ, toler- 
ant of unavoidable mistakes and misfortunes, and 
prompt to recompense good work. "When he retired 
from active business and sold the Carnegie Company 
to the Steel Trust, everyone in his service received a 
present of a year 's salary. He is constantly improving 
the houses and land on his estate. The old and sick 
are not overlooked, Mrs. Carnegie in this domain play- 
ing the part of "Lady Bountiful" with rare tact and 
grace. Even little Margaret, their only child, has done 
her share by distributing toys and books and more sub- 
stantial presents far and near among the little ones on 
the estate. I saw overwhelming evidences of this in 
every house I visited. It is admitted, I talked with 
some who seemed to be thankless and showed little ap- 
preciation of the kindness showered upon them, but 
that is only to be expected, and is merely noted to com- 
plete the picture, where contrast is as essential to truth 
as it is to beauty. There are some people so consti- 
tuted that generosity is poison to them, and it is idle to 
look for gratitude in such natures. They begrudge the 
man who gives the power that enables him to give, and 
his continued success only increases their envy.* 

* In this connection it may be worth while telling a Carnegie story 
that I heard more than once when in the North, and in the main I am 



36 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

An instance of Mr. Carnegie's thoughtfulness is the 
way he helps the old and the feeble who wish to go to 
church on Sundays. He sends out a big three-horse 
brake to gather in as many as it will hold, and after 
reaching Dornoch the passengers can go to the churches 
of their own selection to find their conveyance awaiting 
them for their homeward journey when the services 
are over. As proprietor or heritor, Mr. Carnegie is 
entitled to a Laird's seat in every church in the neigh- 
borhood. I found that he favored the Dornoch Cathe- 
dral, which is now used as the parish church, the ser- 
vice being that of the Church of Scotland. This is the 
state-supported Presbyterian Church, sometimes called 
the " Established Church." Here Mr. Carnegie has a 
well-furnished "pumphil," not far from the pulpit. 
Back of this are the seats reserved for the Skibo Castle 
servants. The ducal compartment of the Sutherland 

inclined to think it is true. When Mr. Carnegie rented the Cluny Castle 
he became quite well acquainted with an old man who lived on an 
adjoining estate. This woodsman was often troubled with rheumatics, 
which were aggravated by the leaky condition of his house. One day 
when he met Mr. Carnegie the old man plucked up courage to tell him 
of his miserable shanty and expressed the belief that if he were more 
comfortably housed he felt sure he would soon get rid of his rheumatism. 
Now the property was not Mr. Carnegie's, neither did he rent it, and he 
felt a reluctance to interfere on the estate of another. But, finally, he 
decided he had the right to help a friend, so he asked John how much 
it would take to put his dwelling in good repair. Then John's greed 
began to operate. Thirty pounds would have been an ample sum and 
left something over, but here was Carnegie — the richest man in Scot- 
land — so John said " a hundred and thirty pounds ! " Mr. Carnegie 
wrote out a check for the amount, and told John to have the work done 
at once. When he reached home the old man in great glee told his 
wife that he had met Mr. Carnegie and he had given him a nice check 
to repair their house, just the very sum he asked. "And how much?" 
his wife queried. " A hundred and thirty younds," John said, almost 
ashamed to mention the amount. " You big fool," said his worthy 
spouse, "why did you not ask two hundred and thirty? He would not 
have missed it! Go back and tell him you have made a mistake, and 
that you find it will take two hundred and thirty." So next day John 
sallied out, met Mr. Carnegie, and told his revised tale. " Who went 



in carnegie's country. 37 

family is close at hand, and directly over the graves of 
some dozen Earls of Sutherland. The present parish 
minister of Dornoch is something of an antiquarian, and 
in the vestry of the church I saw good specimens of 
"querns" (stone mills), for grinding corn, as used 
by the early Scots, and similar to what the Egyptians 
had four thousand years ago; of jougs and pillories; 
and of monumental effigies, including one a Crusader 
dug up near the Cathedral. The walls of the church 
are decorated here and there with stone and brass 
tablets, recounting the military deeds of the "Suther- 
land Highlanders" or the private benefactions of for- 
mer worshippers. 

Dornoch is a dear little town, famous for its fine golf 
course and notorious from the fact that the last witch 
that was burned in Scotland suffered that insane pun- 
ishment near this place in 1727. The new light railway 

over the figures with you?" said Mr. Carnegie, according to the story. 
" My wife," John answered. " Have you the check with you that I gave 
you yesterday ?" " Yes." " Let me have it." And when it was handed 
over Mr. Carnegie tore it up and said, " You may now go home and 
ask your wife to help you to repair the house," and John lost all, 
illustrating the Scottish rhyme: 

" Sic like greed 
Can never come speed!" 

The incident was afterwards told by John himself, who felt, on 
reflection, that he only got his deserts, but how his good wife received 
the outcome has not been divulged. 

Another tale in a different vein is told of a builder, who contracted 
to erect a wall near Skibo Castle for a stipulated sum, to be paid on 
acceptance of the job. He was not a rich contractor, and when the 
work was completed he had paid out his last penny. The night before 
it was to be accepted by Mr. Carnegie a storm destroyed it, and the 
builder was in despair, considering himself a ruined man. He went to 
Mr. Carnegie and related what had happened. "Rebuild it!" Mr. 
Carnegie said. "But I cannot," said the mason; "all I possessed went 
into the wall destroyed, and I am not able now to pay men to work for 
me." "But they will work if I pay them, won't they?" Mr. Carnegie 
asked; and the outcome was that the contractor was paid for the first 
wall, and for the second wall, too. 



38 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

from the Mound is giving a great impetus to Dor- 
noch expansion. I thought the people distant and the 
women particularly queer. They talked neither Gaelic, 
English nor Scotch, but an affected lingo that was 
ridiculous in the extreme and painful to hear. They 
had not got over the novelty of the new line when I was 
there, and before making trips to suburban stations fell 
upon each other's necks and wept, and made as many 
passionate farewells as if they had been starting out 
for Ceylon or Siberia. The swell inn of Dornoch is 
"The Sutherland Arms," which also rejoices in an 
"Annex." If the managers manage all the year round 
to get the rates that were current on my brief visit 
they can soon afford to annex the town, but, alas, for 
such a hope! Already plans were being made for a 
bigger and better and more moderate priced hotel, un- 
der the control of the railroad company and one or two 
private speculators.* 

Across the Firth is situated the beautiful royal burgh 
of Tain, which was the birthplace of the great Culdee 
evangelist, St. Duthoc, and after his death became his 
shrine, and a place of pilgrimage of the ultimate rank. 
In later years it was the cradle and chief center of the 
Reformation in Ross and the North. In St. Duthoc 
church may still be seen the pulpit sand-glass used to 
time the minister's sermon; and I was told the still 
more interesting "Parson Extinguisher" was also em- 
ployed in this building. According to some ecclesias- 
tical antiquarians, the pulpit represented the candle- 
stick of the church, and the preacher was himself the 

* A Dornoch editor did not quite relish the foregoing paragraph when 
it first appeared in a local paper, but several correspondents from the 
north have written me and asked me to let my Dornoch statements 
stand, assuring me " they hit the situation to a ' t,' " and giving ex- 
planations " how " and " why." One acquaintance summed it up in 
the phrase : " The toon wad dee if the f owk were better " ; — which is 
a gey dubious compliment, I'm thinkin'. 



in caknegie's country. 39 

candle. What is now called the "sounding board" 
over his head was originally a movable lid, fastened 
to a rope or chain, controlled by the patron of the par- 
ish. If the preacher became too tedious, a jerk of the 
chain was apt to improve his pace, if not his style. 
If he said anything that did not suit the man that con- 
trolled his berth he was similarly admonished. If he 
became too tiresome or too rebellious, he was simply 
snuffed out ! The solid, concrete, tangible wooden hint 
continually hanging over him, like the sword of Damo- 
cles, proved the best of critics from the laird's point 
of view, and insured to the worshippers a luminary 
that did not fail. What originated in actual fact in time 
became only true metaphorically, but the "Parson Ex- 
tinguisher" is by no means extinct in our day, whether 
the string is controlled by the State, by the local "big 
man, ' ' by the creed, or the whims of the congregation. 
When I was at Dornoch I heard of a case in point 
where a most eloquent New York preacher, temporarily 
supplying a local pulpit, had his light puffed out by a 
simple servant girl, and to his credit be it said the re- 
sult had no connection with either "spark" or "flame." 
On my way from Dornoch to Skibo Castle, as is my 
custom, I fell into conversation with a fellow-traveler. 
He was a native of the district and the burden of his 
song was a panegyric on his Grace of Sutherland's 
methods in making improvements on the buildings of 
his farms. He said only seasoned wood was used by 
him, while other proprietors worked up timber freshly 
cut and "as green and soft as the runts of Kail." He 
also contrasted the changed times on Skibo since Mr. 
Carnegie became proprietor. Pointing to a steading we 
could see from the road, he said, "I remember when a 
Laird of Skibo set that place on fire to evict the ten- 
ants," a statement which I afterwards verified to the 
letter. 



40 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

The Skibo Castle policies are surrounded by a stone 
wall, according to the manner of the country, and elec- 
tric lights are dotted all over them. The policies are 
well filled with thriving trees of every variety, and the 
avenues and walks are always kept in apple-pie order. 
On the way to the Castle the gardens and conservatories 
are passed. At present they are in a transition stage, 
being in the course of remodelling and enlargement to 
more fitly harmonize with the extensive improvements 
and additions made on the Castle since Mr. Carnegie's 
ownership. 

Skibo (pronounced Skee' bo) is a Norse name, mean- 
ing "the dwelling on the wing of land," or "the home 
on the peninsula." The monks, who were the first to 
settle at Skibo, while they pointed the way to Heaven, 
always made sure of the choicest spots on earth, and the 
Bishop of Dornoch located his palace where Mr. Car- 
negie's castle now stands. Like most Scottish houses 
of importance, Skibo has come through many changes. 
It has been plundered and burnt more than once, but 
it is safe to say that it never surpassed its present 
grandeur. Since Mr. Carnegie selected it as his High- 
land home he has, so far as money can accomplish it, 
made it the equal of the finest in the land, and far 
surpassing the great majority of castles, new or old. 
Its geographical location, on the northern margin of the 
Dornoch Firth, protected on the north, east and west 
by densely wooded heights, makes it at once cosy, con- 
spicuous and picturesque. 

It is impossible in a short sketch to describe the in- 
terior of the castle and its many magnificent features. 
Everything has been arranged on a liberal American 
plan. The rooms are big, with high ceilings, and fur- 
nished in the most exquisite taste, the keynotes being 
strength, simplicity, warmth and elegance, and not, as 
in many fine mansions, a mere jumble of gew-gaws and 



in carnegie's country. 41 

gingerbread that only too often irritate rather than 
inspire, and mean little more than a vulgar display 
of riches. In Skibo Castle the visitor feels that he is in 
a home, and the soul expands with the air of comfort 
and freedom about the place. Needless to say, every 
appliance for ease and assistance is to be found around 
Mr. Carnegie, from electric lights to automatic ele- 
vators, and from the telephone to the private yacht. I 
was naturally much interested in the library of the 
world's greatest giver of libraries, and I found it in 
every way to my heart's desire. This was my first 
asquaintance with Skibo Castle, and the one place I 
regretted most to leave. The Laird of Skibo was not in 
when I called, and, having been ushered into the library 
to wait for his arrival, I thought : "If the New Jerusa- 
lem has anything better to offer to my tastes and my 
wishes I '11 forfeit the chances now, if I could make sure 
of immortality at Skibo. ' ' My idea of Heaven, anyhow, 
is a place where we shall have the finest books, the 
sweetest music, the grandest company and plenty of 
work we like to do and can do better than anyone else. 
To that add the ones we love, plus a few modest extras 
that would not conflict with peace or progress, and my 
ideal would be realized. 

What a contrast from the Skibo appointments are my 
present surroundings! Temporarily from home, I am 
now writing this in a third-story room, with four bare 
walls, my collection of books contained in two boxes, 
without possible arrangement for convenient reference. 
My desk is a small table, which only leaves me about 
two square feet for elbow room. I feel checked and 
hampered at every turn, and do not think I will ever 
have to experience worse conditions for literary work. 
But even here I am grateful for quietness and seclusion. 
I know this cannot last forever, and I feel that if life 
and health be spared I can in due course command a 



42 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

literary work-room as much to my liking as the glorious 
one I recall at Skibo Castle. The tangible glimpse of 
Paradise granted to me there instead of filling me with 
depression, or chilling me with jealousy, or killing 
me with despair, gave me more courage, good will and 
healthy ambition than a mere dreamer could gather in 
a lifetime of vague and gloomy imaginings, with occa- 
sional intermissions devoted to rainbow-chasings. 

Here was the real thing, and all accomplished in the 
lifetime of the owner, who started his career with prob- 
ably less advantages than the poorest boy in Lancaster. 
He found his way by making it, and the fact that he 
"got there" proves that it can be done.* 

A study of his record shows that he made many 
changes, but in every instance to his ultimate benefit. 
Beginning as a "bobbin-boy," at about a dollar a week, 
he was successively and successfully engine-tender, 
clerk, telegraph messenger, telegraph operator, railroad 
president's secretary, railway and telegraph organizer 
in the Civil War, investor in sleeping cars, then in oil, 
bridge builder, and, finally, Steel King of America! 
"When he retired "from making money" (as he mod- 
estly puts it), in 1901, he was said to be the owner of 
over two hundred million dollars. I know that most of 
my readers know all this as well as I do, but it bears 
retelling at any time, and has special significance when 
we are considering the man at his own fireside. And 

* The question has been asked if Mr. Carnegie has had an uninter- 
rupted run of good luck, but it is a foolish query. Of course, like every 
mortal man, he has had his share of disappointments, not to speak of 
occasions when everything looked blue as indigo. According to a Pitts- 
burg historian, several times during the panic of 1873 the Carnegie 
firm was on the point of going under, and prior to that Mr. Carnegie 
was so little assured of his steel company venture that he wrote a 
letter, which is extant, upbraiding his former partner, Thomas N. 
Miller, with getting him into the steel business, inducing him to invest 
and then pulling out of the firm because of a personal difference with 
another partner of the concern. The entire edition of Mr. Bridge's 



in caenegie's country. 43 

just as he has probably beaten all comers as a money 
maker, so is he without parallel as a giver. You and I, 
dear reader, may think we would do better if we had the 
same opportunity, and the chances are every one of us 
would do differently; yet how many that have a sur- 
plus do nothing at all, but spend it on their own selfish, 
individual pleasures! And, remember, Mr. Carnegie, 
much as he has given, has promised to do much more, 
so wait until the end of his chapter before passing final 
judgment on him as a philanthropist. 

While I was enjoying myself in his library, looking 
at his books, his works of art, the caskets and souvenirs 
and curios presented to him from cities and societies 
and institutes, he quietly walked into the room and 
gave me a hearty greeting and cordial welcome to Ski- 
bo. No picture of him that I have seen is what I would 
call a good likeness. The real man is different from the 
photograph. He wore an outing Oxford suit, with 
knickerbockers, the cloth of a pronounced black and 
white check pattern, and cap with snout and ear-flaps 
of the same material. He is less than medium size, 
and has particularly neat legs and feet. His beard is 
quite white, and his skin had the glow of health. His 
walk was erect and brisk. His eyes were keen and 
penetrating, but the natural expression of his face was 
that of a kindly Scot. He must have been the double of 
General Grant, when his beard was darker, and he told 
me some interesting anecdotes in this connection. There 
was another New Yorker who bore a close facial resem- 
blance to him some years ago, which often caused 
amusing mistakes. But the best thing in this line was 
his story of the Turkish Pasha. Mr. Carnegie was sit- 
ting in a railway carriage in London recently, and, hap- 

recently published story of the big Steel Trust proved of sufficient in- 
terest to sell at $100.00 per copy. A very satisfactory presentation 
of this book may be procured for twenty cents, by investing in the 
" Cosmopolitan " magazine for October and November, 1903. 



44 HERB AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

pening to lift his head, saw a couple of Turks making 
profound obeisances in his direction. They were joined 
by others, who also added their salaams. He was puz- 
zled to know the reason for all the bowing and scraping, 
and it took some time to solve the mystery, as no inter- 
preter was handy. When it finally was explained that 
they had taken him for Admiral Woods, of the Sultan's 
navy, no one laughed more heartily than Mr. Carnegie, 
who still enjoys telling the story. 

Where there are so many fine things to make life 
enjoyable, it would be hard to say what Mr. Carnegie 
likes best at Skibo. He has a magnificent organ in the 
castle, with an organist in constant attendance; like 
the great chieftains of the North, he has his piper (who 
also happens to be one of the best Highland dancers 
in Scotland) ; he has fishing in fresh and salt waters, 
and he is very fond of plying the rod ; he has a magnif- 
icent private golf course and has developed remarkable 
skill at the game ; over and above all, I think he finds 
the greatest sport in his swimming bath, which is with- 
out an equal on terra firma, and has already been the 
envy of Kings and Emperors. I had not been long at 
Skibo until I was invited to the pond. It is a large 
building, like a conservatory, the main room being 
devoted to the long swimming pool. The bottom is of 
marble, and the water, which gradually deepens from 
the end next the dressing rooms, is really an arm of the 
sea decoyed over hot pipes into this finely-arranged 
basin. Any temperature can be furnished at short 
notice. Timid bathers are provided with life-preserv- 
ers, and it is easy to learn to swim in such a place and 
under such conditions. I had my first lesson from Mr. 
Carnegie himself, and another pupil in the pool at the 
same time was Sir Thomas Lipton. The world-famous 
yachtsman, strange to say, was as much a novice at 
treading water as I was, but before we gave up we could 



in carnegie's country. 45 

both cross the pool several times. It was a record-break- 
ing day for me to be in such company. I can always 
claim honestly that I have seen more of Mr. Carnegie 
and Sir Thomas Lipton than most people, even if I 
have not been around them as often as some ! And if 
Dr. Carnegie and Sir Thomas Lipton are not able to 
make a man keep his head above water his case must 
surely be hopeless ! ! 

I found Sir Thomas to be a fine, handsome, modest, 
manly fellow, with most winning ways. To settle a 
question that seems continually cropping up, I may say 
that Lipton was born in Glasgow, Scotland, and his 
Scottish accent is not the least of his charms. I 
have seen it so often stated "authoritatively" that he 
was of Irish birth that I asked the question of himself, 
and I think his answer should be accepted as final. His 
parents were, however, Irish, hence his love for the 
land of the shamrock. I have an invitation to see the 
next international yacht race as his guest, and this time 
he should win the cup, so I think I'll claim to be 
his mascot in advance. Already, since I met him, he 
has been made a baronet, and I am satisfied higher 
honors are in store for him in the near future. 

Mr. Carnegie is the king of entertainers, and his table 
is always filled with the world's notables. He must 
have met more eminent men in his time than any man 
now living. If a Boswell were in existence to give us 
"The Conversations of Carnegie," the literary net 
could be flung wide enough to catch all the big fish of the 
last two generations on both sides of the Atlantic. What 
wonderful talks he must have taken part in ! It seems 
a pity that all this should die with him, for he must die 
in the ordinary course of nature, even if his works live 
after him. He has the ability himself to write such a 
book, but probably it would be the last task he should 
ever consider doing ; and yet I thought, in summing up 
5 



46 HEEE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

all the opportunities in connection with Mr. Carnegie, 
there is nothing that would be more to my liking and 
nothing that would perhaps pay better, than to own the 
monopoly of such a work as this.* I wish, for the enter- 
tainment of my readers, I could tell a story as well as he 
does. I'm not going to try, but I am tempted to give a 
few specimens of his table-talk to prove my assertion 
that it would make very interesting reading. 

He had been on a visit to Mr. Gladstone, at Hawarden 
Castle, and, after some days of delightful talk together, 
Mr. Carnegie could tell that the Grand Old Man was 
getting restless and showing a tendency to be left alone, 
which the Scottish- American steel manufacturer had no 
desire to strengthen. One morning Mr. Gladstone said 
to Mr. Carnegie: "I shall be busy to-day, moving 
books in my library, and if you have any way to amuse 
yourself embrace the opportunity." Mr. Carnegie 
promptly said : "I'll be delighted to help you, if you will 
permit me?" Mr. Gladstone tried to discourage him, 
but finally it was settled that Mr. Carnegie could be 
with him and assist. Then happened a wonderful thing. 
Mr. Carnegie was on a ladder (the Ex-Premier busy on 
the floor) when in running his eye along the top shelf 
of books Mr. Carnegie saw a rare volume, written by a 
Dunfermline man, and a friend of his own father. He 
could not help an exclamation of surprise, when Mr. 
Gladstone, hardly looking up, said: "If you glance 
along the line a little farther you will find another book 
by another Dunfermline worthy, ' ' and sure enough, here 
was surprise number two— "A Four-in-Hand Trip 
Through Great Britain," by Andrew Carnegie. Na- 
turally Mr. Carnegie was tickled and he asked Mr. 
Gladstone how he came to have it. ' ' Saw a review of 
it and sent for it," replied Mr. Gladstone, and added, 

* Since this was written I have seen it stated that Mr. Carnegie has 
commenced his " Memoirs," and also heard that Mr. Hew Morrison 
was busy on a " Life." 



in carnegie's country. 47 

1 ' Some good things there. ' ' Then, without any hesita- 
tion, assuming his most graceful oratorical attitude, 
Mr. Gladstone recited verbatim, from memory, Carne- 
gie's apostrophe to Dunfermline as contained in that 
hook. Mr. Carnegie considered it as fine a compliment 
as he ever received.* It was entirely unpremeditated, 
as Mr. Gladstone had no idea of having Mr. Carnegie 's 
company that day, nor of ever having him browsing in 
such a manner in his library. It also showed the mar- 
vellous verbal memory of Mr. Gladstone; and to have 
one of his pet paragraphs repeated so accurately, under 
all the circumstances, by such a distinguished man and 
consummate orator, was enough to delight any poor 
author— or rich one, either. 

King Edward had made a visit to Skibo a few days 
before my arrival, and the whole country was delighted 
with the graceful compliment which His Majesty paid 
to his host and hostess. I heard many good stories of 
that call, but do not feel at liberty to retail them, much 
as I should like to do so.f An item, however, I must 
record for the glory of Lancaster. In Mr. Carnegie's 
private study, that is his inner library, or "den," 
there was a framed picture of the skeleton of the largest 
animal ever known to exist. Its bones were discovered 



* I took up Mr. Carnegie's " An American Four in Hand in Great 
Britain " to verify the Dunfermline quotation, and found the surround- 
ing matter so interesting that before I put the book back to its shelf 
I had re-perused every chapter, and re-read the best passages to the 
family circle. It is an excellent volume for an odd half-hour — light, 
bright, romantic, historic, poetical and philosophical, intensely patriotic 
— Scotch as heather, yet starred and striped with America's best spirit. 
To follow " the gay Charioteers " is almost as good as a trip to the Old 
Country. 

t One incident gave the King a hearty laugh when he was informed 
of it some time after. His Majesty arrived at Skibo, a little ahead of his 
program. Mr. Carnegie's Organist happened to be in the Swimming 
Pool when Royalty was announced. The musician did not wait to don 
his clothes, but rushed to his instrument, and, naked, wet and dripping 
as he was, gave a spirited rendition of " God Save the King " that 
certainly made a unique record for the British national anthem. 



48 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

in Wyoming, nnder the auspices of the Carnegie In- 
stitute Research Association, and in compliment to the 
maintainer of the fund the scientists had named the 
monster "Diplodocus Carnegii"— but, for short, said 
Mr. Carnegie smiling, it is called "The 'Cuss' Car- 
negie." It measured from nose to tail over seventy 
feet in length. The King was greatly interested in it, 
and examined the picture closely, asking many ques- 
tions about the details, and finally expressed a wish 
that London might have such a specimen for the benefit 
of scientific students. Mr. Carnegie, with his charac- 
teristic generosity, said if another skeleton was found 
he would see that the King should get it, and since 
then I understand even a bigger specimen has been 
unearthed, so that the promise can be made good. 

And where does Lancaster come in? The picture 
so much admired by the King and his courtiers and by 
everybody who has seen it, was printed at The New 
Era Press of our own city where this book was also 
printed. It's a far cry from the banks of the Conestoga 
to the shores of the Dornoch Firth, but the distance was 
actually bridged, even if it took the skeleton of the big- 
gest mammal ever known to do it! What says the 
proverb? "Seest thou a man diligent in his business, 
he shall stand before Kings, etc. ' ' 

In the same room Mr. Carnegie laughingly pointed to 
his ' ' patent of nobility, ' ' which was a framed hand-bill, 
giving an account of some of his immediate ancestors, 
who were imprisoned in connection with some political 
demonstrations in Dunfermline. I noticed on the 
wall "Punch's" famous cartoon of Carnegie as "The 
MacMillion Philanthropist"— the original drawing by 
Partridge. There were also sketches and verses by Kip- 
ling, and I observed in a corner a bust of Herbert Spen- 
cer. I was pleased to see, too, in this "inner chamber" 
a good proportion of purely Scottish books, in fine 



in carnegie's country. 49 

editions of fine bindings, but by no means new, on ac- 
count of their great rarity. Mr. Carnegie's bookplate, 
which I understand was the design of Mrs. Carnegie, 
has the motto "Let there be light." A favorite Car- 
negie device is the picture of the American and British 
flags, crossed or intertwined. A fine photo of the John 
Bright statue presented by Mr. Carnegie to the House 
of Commons gallery called forth a glowing tribute to 
America's great friend during our Civil War. There 
was no end to Mr. Carnegie's talk, and everything he 
touched on was to the point, informative and interest- 
ing. Inspiration, the Bible, Shakespeare, Byron, work 
and workers, speeches, quotations, opinions on men 
and affairs— each topic would make an article by itself. 
His habits of thought, and doubtless of action, were 
well exemplified by the tenacity with which he stuck to 
a couple of apt quotations until he got them just right 
to the last word, letter and dot.* He keeps informed 

* The first related to Lord Claude Carnegie who had defeated Mr. 
Carnegie at a game of golf, but not until the Laird of Skibo had made 
his lordship acquainted with the superior merits of the American 
golf balls. Mr. Carnegie laughingly made the Byronic quotation: 

" Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel 
He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel." 

It is a favorite simile of the poets, Moore and Waller also using it 
as ^Eschylus did long before either of them. 

The second quotation Mr. Carnegie particularly admired. It had 
been used, he said, in connection with the opening of a Carnegie Free 
Library in England by a working man, who had been happier in his 
selection than any of the learned gentlemen who spoke at the same 
ceremony. The lines are from " King Lear " : 

" So Distribution should undo excess 
And each man have enough." 

The Baconians who like to claim Shakespeare's works could also 
quote from their god: 

" Of great riches there is no real use, 
Except it be in the distribution." 

Shakespeare was a successful man of business, and looked after the 
coins he had collected, but as a poet the only " Excess " he ever craved 
was " Excess of Music." Bearing the quotations and the Bathing epi- 
sode in mind the two skits that follow will be better understood. 



50 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and up-to-date on everything that interests the world. 
The leading British and American magazines and news- 
papers were on file in his outer library. 

In the Swim! 
" 'Tis Dissipation, not Accumulation, 
That brings a stringency upon a nation; 
But to improve a drooping Constitution, 
There is no medicine like — Distribution!" 
" Oh, could I say ' Let there be light ' 
From Land's End to Cape Wrath!" 
That all might know I'm now a Knight 
Commander of the Bath! 

Not so by Royal Edward's will, 

At this time, it you please; 
But one of Skibo's rarer still 

And better K.C.B.'s! 
St. Andrew filled my heart with pride, 

And only as he could, 
When by Sir Thomas Lipton's side 

My title was made good. 
Thus did Carnegie show his steel, 

And give me cause to bless 
How finely Fortune whirled her wheel, 

Undoing her excess! 



Scotch " High-Ball " at Skibo Castle. 

" Pleased as he was — it pleased him mair to ken 
That Fact not Fancy had inspired his pen." 
The Water was the blue, saut sea 

Drawn frae the Dornoch Firth, 
But warm and pure as it could be 

And bubblin' o'er wi' mirth! 
The Scotch was of as fine a blend 

As Scotland ever saw: 
Sir Thomas Lipton and his friend, 

Carnegie's sel' and — Law! 
Brag nae aboot Glenlivet fine 

Nor brands mair choice and rare, 
Sic Spirits splashin' in the brine 

Were clean beyond compare! 

What ferlie tho' I felt upheezed 

And inspiration drew 
Enough to gar my rhymes be reezed 

My life-lang journey through! 



in Carnegie's country. 51 

I must not omit to note a game of golf on the Skibo 
links. The course could hardly be more perfect, nor 
situated in the midst of grander or pleasanter sur- 
roundings. With a fine breeze blowing from the sea, 
and the springy grass or turf underfoot, it is exhilar- 
ating to merely look on, but the full benefit is only 
gained by playing a game. Wherever the eyes are 
turned the scenery is beautiful, wild, sublime. I can 
now see before me the blue waters of the Firth, the 
soft, green fields by the shore, the shaggy woods, craggy 
fastnesses and shady ravines farther off, and away in 
the dim distance peak after peak, like Alps on Alps, 
with valleys in between, and, hovering high over all, 
the misty clouds that finally touch the sky. The play of 
shadow and sunlight on the sullen, silent, majestic 
mountains was not the least interesting feature of the 
glorious panorama. 

One of my partners on the links was Frederick Har- 
rison, the great Positivist philosopher, and among the 
foremost of English men of letters. He was capital 
company, and told any number of choice stories, in- 
cluding the teasing and comical one, with the burden 
of "Golf is not a game." He touched on his recent 
trip to America, and talked with enthusiasm on his 
audiences with McKinley, Roosevelt and many other 
prominent men of our country. I have also pleasant 
recollections of his references to cricket, tennis, hop- 
picking and other minor topics. Under the guidance 
of our pro-tem. tutor, Mr. Ritchie, a jolly Ionian, and 
the Laird of Skibo 's ' ' Minister of Marine, ' ' I managed 
to make a hole at four strokes which entitled me to 
the medal for the day. Little Miss Carnegie was 
also out with her golf sticks, accompanied by one of 
her nurses, and made the complete course. I did not 
hear of any resident doctor at Skibo Castle, and I think 
he would be a superfluous commodity at that healthy, 



52 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

healthful and wholesome region, so far, at least, as 
being a handler of pills and potions, for certainly na- 
ture dispenses better medicine and more bracing tonics 
than the choicest concoctions of Galen, Hippocrates or 
iEsculapius. 

The sudden death of my father-in-law,* in Aberdeen- 
shire, brought my Skibo trip to an abrupt conclusion, 
but in my brief visit how much I had seen, and what 
delightful things I had heard! For a short cut, I 
crossed the ' ' Meikle Ferry, ' ' which was the scene of a 
great tragedy about a century ago, when, by the over- 
crowding of a boat, ninety-nine lives were lost. It was 
a great pleasure to me to handle the tiller and make our 
ferry-boat zig-zag as I pleased in crossing the "raging" 
Firth. A gig for Tain met me on the opposite shore, 
and, after an excellent supper in the "Boyal Hotel,' ' I 
took the train for Inverness, and thus concluded one 
of the most notable chapters of my long vacation. 

* Robert Duff, Esq., of New Noth and Old Noth. 



SIR THOMAS J. LIPTON, BART. 

Although " The Cup " he ne'er may get 

To bear across the brine, 
' We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet. 

For Auld Lang Syne ' ! 

Sir Thomas J. Lipton, Bart., is as well known by 
name as any individual living to-day, and his circle of 
personal friends and acquaintances includes, perhaps, 
a more motley and distinguished throng than any other 
single man can claim. About twenty years ago, he laid 
the foundation of his immense fortune by opening a 
small provision store in Glasgow. Prior to that time he 
had tried his luck in America without succeeding in pil- 
ing up even a thousand dollars. His stores are now num- 
bered by the hundreds, and his mammoth business has 
been incorporated and endorsed by the British public 
with such enthusiasm, backed by hard cash, that his 
present and future success seems to be impregnable. 
He is only about fifty years of age and his wealth is 
estimated at over fifty million dollars. According to a 
recent interview he says that energy, good temper and 
keeping out of politics are great luck promoters. In 
Great Britain he is extremely popular with everybody 
from King to commoner. In this country he is hailed 
as a true sportsman and a gentleman to be encouraged. 

The Lipton country seat is named "Osidge," and is 
situated in Southgate on the borders of London, just 
half an hour's distance by automobile from the Lipton 
head offices on City Road. Sir Thomas is fond of hunt- 
ing and never has fewer than thirty horses in his stable, 
including some fine Kentucky racers and jumpers. 
His home in furnishings and appointments is equal to 
the finest in the land. His paintings by old and modern 

53 



54 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

masters would grace any castle, but the portraits of 
his father and mother he considers the dearest of all 
his art treasures. His grounds are laid off with less 
primness than the regulation English landscape gar- 
dens, and a fine golf course occupies a conspicuous 
place in his one-hundred-and fifty acre park. 

It is too bad that all this magnificence should only be 
a bachelor 's headquarters, but it is not too late for him 
to mend, and when he gets the America's Cup* out of 
the way, after the Greenock folks have had a good look 
at it, Sir Thomas may a-wooing go, and complete his 
happiness by inviting "some fair dame to keep his 
heart and share his name." 



* On the 24th of June, 1903, Sir Thomas arrived at New York to give 
his personal attention to the trial races of his yachts in American 
waters, and about that date the following verses by the writer were 
printed in many newspapers under the simple title of — 

Greetings ! 

Sir Thomas Lipton, Baronet, 

Good man, and sportsman true ; 
More honor'd yet since last we met, 

Thrice welcome, friend, to you! 

Our latest racer is a bird, 

But your persistent pluck 
And all that goes with Shamrock III 

May bring you better luck. 

If vanquished we should waken up 

We wish to let you know: 
Were you the one to lift the cup 

It would assuage the blow! 

And should defeat be your decree 
We'll toast you to the strain: 
" Since better lo'ed ye canna be 
Will you no come again?" 

Whate'er results may be your chance 

We all are in your debt, 
And hope at least you may advance 

To be a Baron nett! 



SIR THOMAS J. LIPTON, BART. 55 

As perhaps every reader knows, the "Cup," which 
is the trophy in the international yacht competitions 
was originally a present from Queen Victoria, and was 
won from Great Britain by the Yankee pilot boat 
"America." The coveted prize is of silver, stands only 
twenty-seven inches high, and is intrinsically worth 
about £100. To keep it in the United States, and to 
make the various attempts that have been made to 
recapture it, direct expenditures of many million dollars 
have been involved. 

Very little was heard of the first race, which took 
place off the Isle of Wight, and was witnessed by the 
Queen, in 1851. It was before the days of telegraphy, 
with wire or wireless, and was a more exclusive affair 
that the International Yacht Races of to-day, that per- 
haps excite a greater degree of hearty interest among 
high and low throughout the world than any other single 
event of our time. The Americans have, however, 
borne testimony to the valued help they had from the 
English pilot who guided their first yacht to victory, 
just as in our day Scotsmen are pleased to note when 
the American defender wins that much of the result is 
no doubt due to the fact that the American syndicate 
placed its reliance in a Scotch captain. Of the first 
race, too, the Americans are fond of telling the story 
that when the Queen anxiously asked which yacht was 
leading, the answer came, "America"; and in response 
to the query "and which is second?" the crestfallen 
English signalman had to reply "There is no second." 
Even the great Daniel Webster announced the over- 
whelming triumph in Congress by using the incident to 
decorate one of his speeches, as Macaulay employed a 
similar sporting phrase before him (in speaking of 
BoswelPs Johnson) when he said it was a case of 
"Eclipse first and all the rest nowhere." 

In 1857 the Cup was deeded to the New York Yacht 



56 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Club, and since then has been known as the "America's 
Cup." It took Britain nineteen years to try a race in 
American waters, when the English sent over the 
"Cambria." In 1870 she came in tenth out of fifteen 
competitors. Next year the English "Livonia" was 
beaten. After a lull of six years Canada made an in- 
effectual trial with the "Countess of Dufferin," and 
again in 1881 with ' ' Atlanta. ' ' The English ' ' Genesta ' ' 
was defeated in 1885, and in 1886 the "Galatea" shared 
the same fate. Much was expected of the Scotch syndi- 
cate 's "Thistle" in 1887, but on that occasion the 
American "Volunteer" added another spike in the 
Cup's fastening. Six years elapsed before Lord Dun- 
raven entered his "Valkyrie II.," which met the fate of 
all her predecessors. His Lordship tried again with 
"Valkyrie III." in 1895, and before completing the 
races withdrew his boat. 

In 1899 came the noblest sportsman of them all, the 
challenger of the present year, Sir Thomas Lipton, 
Bart, with his third effort to lift the Cup. He did well 
with ' ' Shamrock I., ' ' much better with ' ' Shamrock II. ' ' 
in 1901, and "Shamrock III." was believed to be so 
much superior to her predecessor that high and well- 
grounded hopes were entertained of seeing the Ameri- 
can "Reliance" beaten by the triple combination of 
Lipton Pluck, Shamrock Luck, and the Good Fortune 
that often goes with a third attempt. One thing is cer- 
tain: if the matter had been put to an American vote 
Sir Thomas would have won the Cup by an overwhelm- 
ing majority, as he is by far the most popular yachts- 
man that ever graced American waters. He has cap- 
tured the hearts of the entire male and female popula- 
tion by his liberality, his manliness, his absolute fair- 
ness, and his genial perseverance. But having all such 
qualities the Cup would be nothing to him unless won 
on merit alone, and through all his career, when the 



SIR THOMAS J. UPTON, BART. 57 

head of even a strong man might be turned by the adula- 
tion and the flattery, and the honest good wishes show- 
ered upon him, Sir Thomas has always modestly an- 
swered, "May the best boat win." 

The poets saw to it that Sir Thomas received plenty 
of couplets if denied any cups, and the following verses 
are a fair specimen of the current good wishes fairly 
showered on the well-liked Challenger : 

"Waes Hael. 

Air — " Go fetch to me a pint o' wine." 

Sir Thomas, here's a health to you! 

May fortune smile, the bonnie lassie, 
And do the best that she can do 

To help you lift the Silver Tassie! 
She's partial to the man who tries, 

And with her eyes on your invasion 
We may premise you have the prize 

As good as won on this occasion ! 

The third attempt! That means of course 

Not Furies three, but three good Graces, 
Have been enlisted to endorse 

The three fine fates to help your races! 
Old Neptune vows he'll send a fog 

Or push his Trident up, if needed, 
And Pluto's triple headed dog 

Will see your bark is not impeded ! 

Not yours Aneasos sorry lot ! 

For with propitious stars to hover 
Around your thrice-named Shamrock yacht 

Your finish must be made in clover. 
Such luck abides with "thrice" we know 

It takes no gift of Mother Shipton, 
Nor three forked Jovian flash to show 

This time the cup must go to Lipton ! 

Sir Thomas had quite a fleet with him in New York 
Bay when he made his last appearance after the elusive 



58 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Cup. In addition to Shamrocks I. and III., each with 
a crew of over forty, the sea-going tugs "Cruizer" and 
"Fletcher," with several swift launches were all to 
be seen in the neighborhood of his big private steam- 
yacht the "Erin." It is a floating home, fit for a king, 
and every corner of it is full of the rarest souvenirs 
and trophies, each telling its tale of honor and compli- 
ment and success. The yacht has been visited by more 
celebrities than any craft that ever sailed into New 
York Harbor, and seems charged with good company, 
good stock, and good cheer from stem to stern. Sir 
Thomas appears to be without a care, and has the merry 
heart of a boy. He has the happy faculty of making 
his guests, of whatever degree, feel at home from the 
moment of their arrival, and he seems to give each an 
equal share of his attention and his pleasing company. 
As may be surmised, he does not suffer from loneliness, 
and among his friends are numbered the most distin- 
guished people of all countries and climes. He is never 
1 ' caught napping, ' ' whether he is entertaining his Sov- 
ereign, as he often does, or even when he gets a short- 
notice visit of such a crowd as all the officers and stu- 
dents from West Point, which happened only the other 
day. In American waters he is accorded honors equal 
to those given to an Admiral of the fleet. Every private 
yacht and ship doffs its hat, so to speak, to the "Erin," 
and even the city and government official boats vie with 
each other in the warmth of their salutes to the cham- 
pion challenger. To this I can bear personal witness 
as, although denied the pleasure of witnessing any of 
the Cup Eaces, I was a guest on the "Erin" prior to the 
struggle. When the big "Oceanic" passed us in the 
bay she kept her whistles going in friendly tune and ran 
a complimentary shamrock flag to her mast-head, while 
all her crew and passengers waved and cheered Sir 
Thomas "Good Luck" until they disappeared in the 



SIR THOMAS J. LIPTON, BART. 59 

distance. Such incidents really do more to promote 
international friendliness than many pompous and dig- 
nified treaties, and from this standpoint alone, when 
conducted with Lipton's spirit, the yacht races are most 
praiseworthy, and Sir Thomas is entitled to the highest 
honors as the right kind of a diplomat, paying all ex- 
penses, too, from his own pocket. 

I had many opportunities of seeing the two Sham- 
rocks, and they have to be seen to really understand 
what kind of racing machines they are. Some one hit 
off this type of yacht very well— for as to main design 
" Shamrock' ' and "Reliance" are now much alike— in 
writing of " a spar-deck between a bulb of lead and an 
acre of sail." The "Reliance" may be described as 
scow-shaped at both bow and stern, with hull broad 
and shallow, while the "Shamrock's" hull is narrow 
and deep. They were each believed to carry between 
16,000 and 17,000 square feet of sail, but it turned out 
that the "Reliance" had at least 2,000 more square feet 
of sail than Shamrock III., so that it was a contest be- 
tween a "heavyweight" and a "featherweight" with 
the natural results. No wonder the towering masts of 
both had been broken by the high pressure on them. In 
a stiff breeze the strain must be terrific, and they are* 
almost as much balloons as boats. Every race is differ- 
ent from another, and it is impossible to have conditions 
twice alike. The wind and the sea alone can furnish 
endless situations, and so nicely adjusted is everything 
on board that I believe the changing of positions of any 
of the crew might materially affect results. The "Reli- 
ance" cost $300,000, and is only fit for old junk when 
the races are over, but the bill is divided among many 
Americans. Sir Thomas Lipton's expenditures must 
go over a million, and while he challenges in behalf of 
the Royal Ulster Yacht Club of Belfast his own checques 
settle all the scores. And this was his third attempt! 



60 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Is it any wonder he provoked such rivalry and evoked 
such an era of good feeling? Is it any marvel that all 
the mascots in America found their way to the "Erin" 
—from grasshoppers and prairie dogs to rabbits' feet 
and green hens 1 

One of the most interesting features of the "Erin" 
to me was the De Forest wireless telegraphy instru- 
ment fitted on the yacht, and kept busy receiving and 
forwarding messages from the water to the land. The 
Marconi system has been familiar to the public for some 
years now. Of course Lindsay, of Dundee, Scotland, 
was in the field long before any recent inventor, as Mar- 
coni himself has publicly testified. Colonel Firth, who 
represented the De Forest system on the "Erin" very 
kindly gave me a most interesting and intelligent ex- 
position of the theory and practice of wireless tele- 
graphy, and from his talk I gleaned that this weird, 
if not wired, art is on the verge of still more marvellous 
advances. To commemorate my introduction to the sys- 
tem I despatched several messages inland including the 
following skit to a Lancaster friend : 

A "wireless" message from "The Erin" 

To let you know you're not forgot 
And say how splendidly I'm farin' 

On good Sir Thomas Lip ton's yacht. 
Don't think that I am half seas over 

Or three sheets in the wind— oh, no! 
But that I 'm very much in clover 

I send this little line to show. 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS OF MY 
ACQUAINTANCE. 

Of Scots who coin collectors be 

We know there is no scarcity: — 
These all are men of high degree 

From Burns's University 
And here I've tried due meed to gie them 
And briefly show them as I see them. 

Royal fellows they are and in their chosen field would 
make a rare Society. The day will come when 
"F.B.A."— ("Fellow of the Burns Association") will 
be as high an honor as ' ' F.S. A. " or " F.R.S. ' ' 

Perhaps the greatest of all Burns collectors was 
Craibe Angus of Glasgow. I never met him in the 
flesh, but corresponded with him off and on for about a 
dozen years. In that period he came to be as real to 
me as if I had known him personally; and, according 
to all accounts, we perhaps got along as well together 
as if we had seen each other frequently. Angus, it is 
to be admitted, had the unhappy faculty of quarrelling 
with many of his acquaintances, and becoming 
estranged at different periods from his best friends. 
He was a masterful man, most positive in his opinions, 
and a second Dr. Johnson in his independence and out- 
spokenness. When he met men of the same calibre a 
fight was often the best compliment he could pay them. 
He not only believed but acted the proverb which says : 
' ' Biting and scratching is Scotch folk 's wooing. " As a 
consequence he was in the ' ' black books ' ' of most of his 
rivals, and on this account did not enjoy while living the 
full credit he was entitled to for his ability and success 
as a Burns collector. But after his death his petty fail- 
ings were forgotten, and it is now generally conceded 
that Angus had a more comprehensive knowledge of 

6 61 



62 HEKE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

everything pertaining to Burns and his works than any 
one of his time. I saw his collection in his shop in Glas- 
gow before it was dispersed by auction, and I am satis- 
fied it will take a long time to bring together again such 
a magnificent array of Scottish literature clustered 
around the name of Burns. Nothing was too good for 
Angus when it came to the Bard of Ayr. Poor copies of 
editions were constantly being replaced by good copies, 
and even good copies had to retire when perfect copies 
were purchasable. In the final sifting he had a grander 
display of choice Burnsiana than had ever been col- 
lected before in one building. To own this cost him a 
tidy fortune. After his death it was hoped that his 
books would be purchased in bulk, but after many futile 
attempts to interest libraries and philanthropic indi- 
viduals the collection was last year dispersed at Mr. 
Dowell's auction rooms in Edinburgh. Good prices 
were realized on the whole, and the books were scat- 
tered to all quarters of the world, the biggest number 
of items happily reaching the Smith collection at 
Washington, D. C. If I had been asked which single 
volume I should have selected from the lot I believe a 
fine edition of Lockhart 's l * Life of Burns ' ' would have 
been my choice. It was in splendid condition, beauti- 
fully bound, and contained unpublished notes, com- 
ments and criticisms on the text by Syme and Gracie 
of Dumfries, two of Burns 's intimate friends, who 
wrote from actual knowledge and personal observation. 
By the kindness of Mr. John Angus I was permitted to 
examine this book at my leisure. That Craibe Angus 
fully realized its worth may be surmised when it is 
known that he always kept it in his fire-proof safe 
among his rarest valuables. Mr. Angus was an Aber- 
deenshire man, from "Turra toun," and rose from 
obscurity to a commanding position in the "Second 
City" of the Empire. 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS. 63 

I believe Angus has left his true successor in James 
C. Ewing, another Glasgow man, and at present at- 
tached to the Mitchell Library there. He was the inti- 
mate friend of Angus for many years, and never had 
an unpleasant word with him. Practically all that 
Angus knew Ewing knows, and is all the time knowing 
more and growing bigger. From his official connec- 
tion with the finest treasure house of Scottish dialect 
poetry Mr. Ewing enjoys advantages denied to the 
ordinary Burns enthusiast. He is quiet, unassuming, 
but unmistakably firm in maintaining any ground he 
may take. Several discussions he has entered into 
have been enriched by his information, and settled by 
his statements. He is not afraid to try a tilt with the 
best, and never fights except fairly and squarely. All 
in all I consider him the best equipped Burns man, 
now living, as a collector, bibliographer and editor. Re- 
markable as it may seem we do not yet have a complete 
and definitive edition of Burns' 's works, nor has the full 
truth been told about his life and career. In my belief 
Mr. Ewing can fill both wants, but he will not make a 
beginning to do so until he has weighed, sifted, gauged 
and measured every scrap in his own possession, or 
to which he may have access. It goes without saying 
that he is a Burns admirer ; but no blind worshipper ; 
and I would trust him to produce as true a picture of 
the man, and as full a presentation of his writings, as 
any student of the Scottish laureate now in the land of 
the living. 

John Muir, of Galston, is another of my Burns cor- 
respondents, and although he is still in the body, and 
now living in Glasgow, it was not my good fortune to 
meet him on my last trip to Scotland. Muir devoted 
more time to writing about Burns than to mere collect- 
ing, although he gathered together a very fair amount 
of books and relics relating to his favorite poet. 



64 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Through his efforts Signor Ortensi's Italian transla- 
tions of Burns 's best known productions found their 
way into Scotland, England and the United States. 

The next gentleman on my list is James Dewar, of 
Belfast, Ireland, as good a son of Auld Scotia as ever 
settled in St. Patrick's Isle. Mr. Dewar has been a 
most devoted laborer in Burnsian fields, and with an 
unselfishness that is only equalled by his enthusiasm, 
he has all his life been collecting Burns material 
to give it away. Mainly through his energetic efforts 
the Free Library of Belfast established its Burns de- 
partment, and the shelves of innumerable private col- 
lectors have been greatly enriched by Mr. Dewar 's 
donations. He has, perhaps, kept the Burns flag flying 
in Ireland with more general honor and applause than 
any other single man. For years he was the respected 
front and head of all the Burns, St. Andrew's and kin- 
dred Scottish organizations, in the two chief cities of 
Erin, and is still a welcome and much appreciated 
guest at their leading celebrations. I am glad to say 
that I had the pleasure of being his guest for a week 
last winter, of sitting beside him at the 1902 St. An- 
drew's banquet in Belfast, and was given the honor of 
responding to the toast of "Kindred Societies 
Abroad, ' ' proposed by my old friend. Mr. Dewar, after 
a long business career, retired last fall to spend the 
balance of his days in leisure, but by no means in idle- 
ness. He is still as full of energy as in his prime, and 
is happy that he can now devote more time to the 
studies and activities of his own selection. 

An intense, intelligent and discriminating lover of 
Burns is John Johnston, banker, of Milwaukee, a 
native of Aberdeenshire and a graduate of her uni- 
versity. His fine library is rich in Burnsiana of the 
highest grade, and few scholars are better posted on 
all that pertains to the poet. But Mr. Johnston has 



SOME BUKNS COLLECTOKS. 65 

mastered a wide range of literary topics, and on Scotch 
matters generally he is continually consulted, and is 
never appealed to in vain. He has without question the 
finest collection of books relating to Aberdeen and 
district to be found anywhere in the States, and time 
and time again I have successfully drawn upon his 
stores when every other resource failed me. Mr. John- 
ston has long occupied a commanding position in muni- 
cipal and State affairs. He is a northern literary light 
of admitted brilliancy, his subjects ranging from finance 
to history and from politics to religion. Last June the 
University of Wisconsin conferred the degree of LL.D. 
on Mr. Johnston to the great pleasure of his many 
friends. 

Petek Ballingall., of Philadelphia, is entitled to a 
place among Burns collectors as an excellent type of 
the Scot in America who in a quiet, unobtrusive way 
gathers Burnsiana to present to others. Many a choice 
item to my knowledge, has been secured and passed on 
in this manner. He is also prominently identified with 
the proposed statue to Burns in Philadelphia, and his 
love for the poet has resulted in more than one pilgrim- 
age to the land of Burns. Mr. Ballingall is a public ac- 
countant by profession, and has acted as auditor in 
many big transactions, his reputation as an expert ex- 
tending all over the United States. Warm-hearted and 
well posted, with more leisure he is likely soon to be- 
come better known as a genuine F.B.A. 

A " bairn of Burns" in the highest sense is Andrew 
Gibson, of Belfast, but originally hailing from the 
"Land o' Cakes." Mr. Gibson, after a general ac- 
quaintance with the whole field of Burnsiana, concen- 
trated his attention on the Irish editions of Scotia's 
darling bard. What he has discovered, gleaned, gath- 
ered and described is nothing short of marvellous, and 
a revelation to all students of Burns. If there is an 



66 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Irish edition in existence that has not found its way 
into the Gibson collection the owner will have no 
trouble in disposing of it for a handsome sum. But 
there is no danger that Mr. Gibson will be called upon 
to pay out any more, as his roster is complete, all big, 
little, cheap, dear, rare, common, old and modern Irish 
editions being in his cases, as well as hundreds of other 
fine editions and books, etc., pertaining to Burns, and 
all of the greatest value. Mr. Gibson has practically 
gifted his unique collection to the Linen Company's Li- 
brary in Belfast, where it is well housed and promi- 
nently displayed. He has a complete descriptive cata- 
logue of it in MS. ready for the printer's hands, and 
its publication will be a pleasant surprise to those who 
consider they know something about Burns books. 

My next Burns man, James W. R. Collins, was also 
a native of Glasgow, but when quite young emigrated 
to Philadelphia, which he made his home until his 
much lamented sudden death a few years ago. He 
was an expert stenographer, and for a long time held 
the responsible position of secretary to the General 
Passenger Agent of the Pennsylvania Railroad. There 
was no more popular Scot than Collins in Pennsylvania 
for many years. He was the leading spirit in all the 
Scottish societies of the city of ' ' Brotherly Love, ' ' and 
admittedly the best posted enthusiast in Pennsylvania. 
He collected editions, relics, paintings, engravings, and 
in fact everything connected with the poet, as well as 
a vast quantity of general Scottish literature. He was 
also a contributor to the leading Scottish and Ameri- 
can newspapers on his favorite hobby, and many of his 
articles attracted wide attention. While I lived in 
Camden I made his acquaintance, and we saw each other 
almost daily until I moved to Lancaster. His unex- 
pected early demise was a great shock to me, and by 
his untimely taking off his large circle of friends 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS. 67 

suffered a loss that lias never been retrieved. His li- 
brary was dispersed in New York by auction during my 
absence in Scotland. 

A persevering Burns scholar of international fame 
is Dr. John D. Ross, of New York City. He is best 
known as the editor of many monographs and books of 
' ' Burnsiana, " including such appetizing titles as 
1 ' Round Burns 's Grave, " " Tarn o ' Shanter, " " Bonnie 
Jean," etc. His works on "Scottish Poets in Ameri- 
ca," and its supplement "A Cluster of Poets," are 
standard volumes of reference. His own Burns collec- 
tions and his library of general Scottish literature rank 
with the best of their kind in this country. One section 
alone contains 250 different editions of Burns besides 
200 works more relating to the poet. Mr. Ross was born 
in Edinburgh and must still be on the sunny side of 
fifty. He emigrated to the United States thirty years 
ago. William Black has honored Dr. Ross by quoting 
from his anthologies in the well-known novel "Stand 
Fast, Craig-Royston, " and many a literary Scot has 
been made better known, appreciated and advanced 
by Ross's kindly and able pen. The late Dr. Peter 
Ross was a brother to Dr. John and I am not aware 
of any Scottish family in America that has such an 
output of literary work to their credit as these two 
distinguished sons of the Highlands. 

While not a "collector" in the regular sense, Mr. Geo. 
Black, of Detroit, has in his possession a Burns prize 
that the best of the bard's admirers would be very 
proud to own. The item in question is no less than the 
"Bishop Geddes Burns," a copy of the poet's first 
Edinburgh edition presented by the author to the rev- 
erend gentleman so well known to students of our im- 
mortal Robin. I have had the pleasure of handling this 
rare volume and of examining it minutely. The poet, 
in addition to filling up all the blank spaces in his ' ' ken- 



DO HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

speckle" hand had added over a dozen unpublished 
holograph poems and altogether made this the most 
unique copy of his works now known to the world. 

The Burns specialty of Mr. E. B. Adam, of Buffalo, 
N. Y., is the collection of Burns manuscripts. Among 
his treasures up to date are the following items— surely 
a most remarkable array of genuine letters and poems 
entirely in the handwriting of Scotia's national poet: 

1779. Jeremiah 15 Ch. 10 v. 

" Ah woe is me my mother dear." 

1786. Written in the blank leaf of a copy of my first edition which I 

sent to an old sweetheart, then married — 

" Once fondly loved, and still remembered dear." 

1786. Epistle in verse to Dr. Mackenzie, 29 June, An. M. 5990, 

"~ [A. D. 1786]. 

" Friday first's the day appointed." 

1786. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 15 Nov., 1786. 

1787. Address to Edinburgh. 

" Edina, Scotia's darling seat." 
1787. Second verse of Strathallan's Lament. 

" In the cause of Eight engaged." 
1787. Postscript of letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 22 Mar., 1787. 
1787. Letter to Peter Hill, 19 July, 1787. 
1787. On reading in a newspaper the death of J. McL. 

" Sad thy tale, thou idle page." 
1787. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [30 July, 1787]. 

1787. Letter to Mrs. McLehose [8 Dec, 1787]. 

1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [Jan., 1788]; containing " Clarinda, 

Mistress of my soul," and " Anna, thy charms my bosom fire." 
1788. Letter to "Clarinda," signed "Sylvander" [14 Jan., 1788]. 
1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 12 Feb., 1788; contains, Epigram on 
Elphinston's translation of Martial, 

" Oh thou, whom Poesy abhors." 
1788. Letter to "Clarinda" signed "Sylvander" [18 Mar., 1788]. 
1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 26 Mar., 1788. 
1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 31 Mar., 1788. 
1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 27 and 29 May, 1788. 
1788. On scaring some waterfowl in Loch-Turit. 

" Why, ye tenants of the lake." 
1788. A Fragment— 

" I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn." 
1788. A stanza composed for the air, Captain O'Kain — 

" The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning." 
(The three preceding poems are written on one sheet of paper; 
part of the Lochryan collection.) 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS. 69 

1788. Letter to Major Dunlop [30 May, 1788]. 

1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 21 August, 1788; containing, "The 
Thames flows proudly to the sea " and " When eighty-five was 
seven months old." 
1788. First sketch of letter to Graham of Fintray. 

" When Nature her great Masterpiece designed." 
1788. Revised copy of letter to Graham of Fintray. 
1788. Letter to William Dunbar, 25 Sept., 1788. 

1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 23 and 26 October, 1788; containing, "A 
little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight " and 

"... Crohallan came, 
" The old cock'd hat, the brown surtout the same " : 
1788. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 29 October, 1788; containing part of The 
Poet's Progress. 

" Thou Nature, partial Nature, I arraign," 
and 

" I gade a waefu' gate yestreen." 

1788. Letter to Miss Dunlop [Nov., 1788]. 

1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 1 Jan., 1789; containing part of The 

Poet's Progress. 

" O Dulness, portion of the truly blest ! 
1789. Letter to Professor Dugald Stewart, 20 Jan., 1789. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [Jan., 1789] ; containing the Ode, sacred 
to the memory of Mrs. O. of A. — . 

" Dweller in yon dungeon dark." 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 5 Feb., 1789; containing, "Flow gently, 
clear ( sic ) Af ton, amang thy green braes," and " Now, mad- 
dening, wild I curse that fatal night." 
1789. Letter of William Dunbar [Feb., 1789] ; containing both versions 
of verses written in Carse Hermitage, 

" Thou whom chance may hither lead." 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 23 Feb., 1789. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 4 Mar., 1789. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. McLehose, 9 Mar., 1789. 
1789. Ode, To the Departed Regency Bill, dated 17 Mar., 1789. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 25 Mar., 1789. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 3 April, 1789; containing the Ode to the 

Departed Regency Bill. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 21 April, 1789; containing On seeing a 
fellow wound a hare with a shot — 

" Inhuman man ! curse on thy barbarous art." 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 22 June, 1789. 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 7 July, 1789; containing, Elegy — 

" Strait is the spot and green the sod." 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 17 July, 1789; containing The Kirk's 
Alarm — (sic) A. Ballad. 
" Orthodox, Orthodox, who believe in John Knox." 



70 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 19 August, 1789; containing lines to Mr. 
Graham : 

" I call no goddess to inspire my strains." 
1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 2 October, 1789; containing The Five 
Carlins o' the South, 

" There was five carlins in the South." 

1789. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 8 Nov., 1789; containing, song — (sic) 

" Thou lingering star, with lessening ray." 

1790. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 3 Mar., 1790; containing Prologue for 

Mrs. Sutherland's benefit. 

" What needs this din about the town o' Lon'on." 
1790. Letter to David Staig, Provost of Dumfries [Mar., 1790] ; en- 
closing The Prologue. 
1790. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 6 June, 1790; containing Queen Mary's 
Lament — 

" Now Nature hangs her mantle green." 
1790. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 9 July, 1790. 

1790. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 30 July, 1790; enclosing Elegy on Captn. 
Matthew Henderson. 

" O Death thou tyrant fell and bloody." 
1790. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 6 October, 1790; quoting John Hilde- 
broad's famous epitaph. 

" Here lies poor old John Hildebroad, 
Have mercy on his soul, Lord God, 
As he would do, were he Lord God, 
And thou wert poor John Hildebroad." 
1790. Fragment — Elegy intended for Miss Burnet. 

" In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves." 

1790. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 6 Dec, 1790; enclosing Tarn o' Shanter 

—A Tale— 

" When chapmen billies leave the street." 

1791. Letter to John Tennant, Junr., 2 Feb. 1791. 
1791. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 26 October, 1791. 

1791. First sketch of second letter to Graham of Fintray. 

" Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg." 

1792. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 14 Jan., 1792. 
1792. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 3 Feb., 1792. 

1792. Letter to Alexander Cunningham, 5 Feb., 1792. 
1792. Ballad. 

" O Love will venture in, where he dare na well be seen." 

1792. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 6 Dec, 1792. 

1793. Letter to Mrs. Biddell [1793] ; containing songs — 

" Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon." 

" My Chloris, mark how green the groves." 

" Can I cease to care." 

" Is this thy plighted fond regard." 

1793. Impromptu on Mrs. Eiddell's birthday, 4 Nov., 1793. 

" Old Winter, with his frosty beard." 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS. 71 

1793. Song, " Wilt thou be my Dearie." 
1793. Song, " The last time I came o'er the moor." 
1793. Sonnet — On hearing a thrush sing on a morning walk in Jan- 
uary [1793]. 
" Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough." 
1793. Song, The blue-eyed lass. 

" I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen." 
1793. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [1793]; containing epigram on W. R. — 
" Light lay the earth on Billy's breast," 
and song: 

" Thine I am, my faithful Fair." 
1793. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [April, 1793]. 
1793. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [April, 1793]. 
1793. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [June, 1793] ; containing song — 

" O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide." 
1793. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [June, 1793] ; containing Epigram on 
Maxwell of Cardoness, Epigram on Miss Davis. 
" Ask why God made the Gem so small." 
Epigram : 

" Silence in love shews deeper woe." 
1793. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 25 August, 1793; containing song — 
" By Allan-side I chanced to rove." 

1793. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [Nov., 1793]. 

1794. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [13 March, 1794]; containing Monody 

on Maria — 
"How cold is that breast now which Folly once fired," 
and The Epitaph: 

" Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect," 
and Epigram on Dr. B., 

" That there is Falsehood in his looks." 
1794. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [Septr., 1794]; containing Epigram: 
" Maxwell, if merit here you crave," 
and Epigram on W. R., Esq., 

" So vile was poor Wat, such a recreant slave." 

1794. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 29 Oct., 1794; containing Epigram on 

Hon. R. M. of P-nm-re, 

" Thou Fool, in thy Phaeton towering " 
and on seeing Mrs. Kemble in Dumfries theatre, 
" Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief." 

1795. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [1795]; containing song: "O bonnie was 

your rosy brier." 
1795. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop [1795] ; containing The Dumfries Volun- 
teers — a Ballad — 

" Does haughty Gaul invasion threat." 
1795. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [August, 1795]. 
1795. Verses, To Chloris, first sketch with alterations. 

" 'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young Fair Friend." 



72 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

1796. Ode, intended for George Washington's Birthday. 

" No Spartan tube, no Attiek shell." 
1796. Letter to Mrs. Riddell [1796]. 
1796. Letter to Mrs. Dunlop, 10 July, 1796. 

Copies of poems in the handwriting of Burns: 
On a tear — 

" Oh ! that the chymist's magic art," 
Verses by Helen Cranstoun, who married Professor Dugald 
Stewart in 1790. 

" The tears I shed must ever fall." 
Song: 

" The auld man's mare's dead." 
Letter of "Clarinda" to " Sylvander" [21 Dec, 1787]. 
Ninety-seven letters of Mrs. Dunlop to Robert Burns. 

Of editions of the poems of Robert Burns Mr. Adam 
has about three score, including the rare Kilmarnock, 
and four others published in the poet's lifetime one of 
which is the Philadelphia of 1788.* 

"When we recall that a single letter or versicle by 
Burns is now almost worth its weight in diamonds, and 
when we remember that all the editions quoted bring 
handsome premiums we can better realize what a wealth 
of Burnsiana this modest, generous, patriotic, grand old 
Scotsman has accumulated. He not only has quantity 
in unstinted measure, but also quality of the rarest 
value. It ought to make every true American feel 
prouder that a fellow citizen is the possessor of such a 
unique fortune, as every son of Caledonia, I am sure, 
is grateful that such priceless writings are owned by a 

* As a magnificent example of Book-expansion — sometimes called 
Grangerizing — Mr. Adam's treatment of the Wallace-Chambers Burns 
of 1896 deserves special notice. The four-volume large-paper edition 
has been amplified and extended to seventeen sumptuous volumes, full- 
bound in dark-blue, crushed levant. They contain portraits of 510 
persons mentioned in the volumes; autograph letters and MSS. of 56 
persons; views of 345 places and scenery; a portion of the lock of hair 
which Burns gave to Annie Rankine (from the collection of Wm. 
Potter, Oxton, Cheshire, England), and a small fragment of leather 
from the travelling-valise of Burns; — surely, altogether, a comprehen- 
sive collection of Burnsiana worthy of Scotland's poet, and, in its 
particularly interesting field, truly " second to none." 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS. 73 

brother Scot. Mr. Adarn is also known as the foremost 
Johnsoniana collector of the world, and the owner of 
rare Ruskiniana. When I saw him last he was well 
under way with a literary cairn to the memory of James 
Hogg, the "Ettrick Shepherd." 

General James Grant Wilson excels as a Burns 
bibliographer in the Eurasian field, and has compiled 
the most valuable lists of American editions of our 
poet. Wilson is the son of a Scottish- American bard, 
who enjoyed considerable popularity in his day, and 
the General himself is known everywhere as a writer 
of the first grade. His " Poets and Poetry of Scot- 
land" is one of the finest and most complete anthologies 
of its kind, and his histories and biographical sketches 
of American literary and military men place him high 
in the affection and admiration of his contemporaries. 

In this chat about Burns collectors it would be an 
unpardonable oversight to fail to mention Dr. A. M. 
Stewart, editor and proprietor of The Scottish 
American, New York City. Writing me the other day, 
Mr. Carnegie said : ' ' The Scotch community will gang 
far before they find a better editor than Dr. Stewart. 
He has secured for his paper a commanding position, 
and made it in many respects unique among journals." 
To this we must all agree. Dr. Stewart has been at 
the helm for over forty years, and in that long period 
he has with rare discrimination and never-ceasing in- 
dustry collected, selected and presented to his readers 
everything of value that has been printed relating to 
Burns, from every quarter of the world, and translated 
from all known languages. I am sure I can say without 
any fear of successful contradiction that if the Burnsi- 
ana that has appeared in the Scottish- American since 
its first number could be collected, arranged, classified 
and indexed up to date we should have a testimonial 
to our "high chief of Scottish song" unparalleled in 



74 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

the annals of literature. And this is only one field 
from Dr. Stewart's wide-stretching territory. Every- 
thing of real interest to Scotsmen in America sooner 
or later finds its way into the Scottish- American, and 
as a rule ahead of all its contemporaries. The Aber- 
deen Scot, for instance, who does not see his -home 
paper can keep in touch weekly with all that need be 
known of his own district, and this applies to each 
individual county in Caledonia. Every number of the 
paper also contains a good proportion of fine stories, 
sketches, poetry, biography, reviews and stimulating 
essays, not to speak of a budget of high class wit and 
humor sufficient in the course of a year to set up a vol- 
ume equal to the best of Dean Eamsay. Encourage- 
ment is given to original writers, and as a matter of 
fact, admitted by the severest critics across the water, 
the purest Scottish dialect now-a-days is not written in 
Scotland but by Scottish residents in America, many 
of whom have winged their first flights or made their 
best appearances in the columns of the Scottish- Ameri- 
can. It is also a practical journal mixing its news and 
entertainment with ' ' admonition due, ' ' and at all times 
maintaining the highest and healthiest moral tone. In 
the matter of typographical display it is unexcelled, 
being as carefully printed as it is edited, and all in all 
I consider it an eclectic magazine of the first rank com- 
pared with general publications, while as a weekly 
newspaper and valuable miscellany it should be a regu- 
lar visitor in every household that can claim Scotch 
relationship by birth or descent in the closest or re- 
motest degree. Perhaps no paper published has a cir- 
culation of a higher quality. Instances are common 
where it is sent from an American subscriber to a rela- 
tive in the old country, remailed to friends in the col- 
onies, finding its way finally on board an ocean tramp 
or into a soldiers' camp to be handed around and read 



SOME BURNS COLLECTORS. 75 

until it is literally worn out of existence. Dr. A. M. 
Stewart was born in the village of Cambus, near Stir- 
ling, and has been in this country since 1857. 

Good writers always reserve their best for the last, 
and I have only now to name Wm. R. Smith, of Wash- 
ington, D. C, who in the vast variety of his accumu- 
lated Burnsiana is easily at the present time the lead- 
ing Burns collector of them all, on either side of the 
Atlantic. He began when young, and is now an old 
man. His collection has been enriched with choice 
gems from all the collections that have been broken up 
in the last score of years. He is a careful buyer, and 
never loses sight of any item that would improve his 
library. He is also notable from the fact that he enjoys 
the friendship of the prominent legislators of the 
country, and they have all felt the good influence of his 
intense love for Burns, greatly to their own gain and 
the advancement of their constituents. Smith and his 
Burnsiana together have become as much a Capitol in- 
stitution as the Smithsonian or the Congressional Li- 
brary. It is not enough to say that Smith's collection 
is the best in the United States, and it is not an exag- 
geration to say that it is nearly equal to all other Burns 
collections put together in this country, because the 
simple truth is that with the exception of perhaps half 
a dozen excessively rare volumes he now has every- 
thing worth having, and all his editions are in good 
condition. Almost every week something new is added, 
but it can at least be recorded that in August, 1903, Mr. 
Smith 's shelves contained five hundred and twenty edi- 
tions of Burns, and three thousand volumes relating to 
the poet. Duplicates of most of the books that were in 
Burns 's own library are now in Mr. Smith's collection 
and show the poet in a new light as a literary student. 
The Smith scrap books of Burnsiana and kindred topics 
excel all others in that line, and contain much valuable 



76 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

matter. He has also been fortunate in securing a fit- 
ting permanent home for his collection, its ultimate des- 
tination being the Carnegie Library at Pittsburg. This 
is a guarantee that nothing will be sacrificed or lost, and 
no doubt is one of the reasons why Mr. Smith's friends 
are always glad to send him any rare item of Burnsiana 
that may come their way. Mr. Smith is also promi- 
nently identified with the movement for a Burns statue 
in Washington, which has every sign of successful 
accomplishment in the near future, and in this connec- 
tion he was the originator and founder of the Jean 
Armour Burns Club, of America's capital city. But 
better, I think, than all I have mentioned is the kind- 
ness that Mr. Smith has shown to the nearest living 
relatives of Scotland's greatest bard. He has proved 
a true friend himself and secured for them the help- 
ful friendship of many others that otherwise might 
not have known them. Mr. Smith is at present in the 
enjoyment of excellent health, and wherever he is 
known it is the sincere wish of his friends and acquain- 
tances that he may long be spared to enjoy the gloam- 
ing of his days, and continue to add to what he mod- 
estly calls his " Burns Cairn," but what is by many 
considered to be the best existing Monument to Burns. 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE ATJLD HAME. 

' Leith-Lumsden,' 'Lumsden,' ' Luniis-daine,' — 

Whatever name may come 
This place will aye be to its ain 

'The Village' or 'The Lum.' 
And whatna pairish lass or loon 

The hale wide wardl o'er 
Can find nae music in the soun' 

O' dear auld Auchindoir! 

Lumsden Village, where I was born, and where this 
was written, was founded about 1830 and named after 
the 'lord of the manor.' The original form was 
"Leith Lumsden," but on the death of the last Leith 
Lumsden, the village dropped "Leith" and has ever 
since been known as Lumsden, or, in popular parlance, 
"The Lum." "Lum" is also Scotch for chimney, 
so many puns and jokes are perpetrated against the 
little place based on the double meaning of its name. 
For instance: "Ye canna expec' muckle cleanliness 
oot o' the Lum"; and again: "Even the richest men 
in London are prood to wear a Lum hat ! ' ' 

The village is situated in the parish of Auchindoir, 
which is a Gaelic name meaning "the field of the 
chase," from the fact that Lulach, stepson of Macbeth 
(Shakespeare's hero), was chased through the district, 
and killed in the neighboring parish of Rhynie. The 
district has the usual amount of legends, folk-lore, and 
historical incidents. It has at least two castles— Craig 
and Drumminor— dating from the 16th century. It 
was part of the famous "Gordon Land," and the 
Grants, the Forbeses and the Nivens have also been 
identified with it. Earlier still the Irvines of Drum 
were proprietors of Auchindoir, a fact of special in- 
terest to Americans at this time, since President 
7 77 



78 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Eoosevelt of the United States is descended on his 
Scotch side from the Irvine family. The first Gordon 
in Auchindoir was one Patrick, in ' ' Fulyemont, ' ' now 
Wheedlemont, who fell at Flodden in 1513. There 
are good specimens of Picts Houses in the neighbor- 
hood, said by antiquarians to be the dwelling places 
of our prehistoric ancestors. Stone-axes, Celtic 
crosses, flint arrowheads, querns, with many other old- 
time relics, are found in abundance,* and the present 
Laird of Clova, Mr. Hugh Gordon Lumsden, has ex- 
cellent specimens of everything in his private museum 
at Clova House. My wife and I had the pleasure of 
seeing them under the Laird's instructive guidance, 
with an occasional witty comment, from his brilliant 
Lady. 

* My cousin John Law presented me with a " broad piece " dated 1604, 
found in Lumsden. 

A coin from Scottish Jamie's mint, 

The high and mighty Prince, King James, 
Who wasna slow to tak' the hint 
When Cousin Bess retired for good 
To move his Court frae Holyrood 
To London on the banks of Thames. 

Three hundred years is near the age 

0' this wee bit o' siller white, 
And whatna prophet would engage 
To say three hunner years frae noo 
It winna look as fresh in hue 
And be a mair commended mite. 

Perhaps it cam' frae Shakespeare's purse, 

A shillin' spent to see him play, 
And left for better or for worse 
Amang the Aberdonians dour 
When he wi' Fletcher made the tour 
That took them North by Forres way. 

Be that, hooever, as it will, 

This relic o' their king and time 
Has value in itsel' to fill, 

Far bigger space than I can spare 
Or here can share — an' muckle mair 
Than I can reach in prose or rhyme! 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 79 

There are many beautiful and romantic bits of sce- 
nery near Lumsden, including the three Dens of Kil- 
druminy, Clova and Craig, the Quarry Howe* and 
Corbie Tongue ; the High Wood and the Bonny Woods 
o' Clova; the banks and braes by the Bogie, the Mos- 
sat and the Don, and last, but not least, the magnificent 
hills that hem in the village and valley as by artificial 
walls. "Glenlogie," which may or may not be the 
Glenlogie of the Northern Ballad of that name, is in 
the parish, about six miles west from Alford. In the 
same neighborhood is the "Nine Maiden's Well," 
where tradition states nine maidens were killed by a 
boar that infested the district. To help along the story 
the "Boar's Stone" is shown near by, still bearing the 
marks left by the beast in sharpening its tusks ! Some 
will have it that the boar's head quartered on the 
Forbes arms originated in this incident; and there are 
even fanciful theories for the origin of the name itself 
in connection with the adventure, running from the 
mild "It was a' For Bess" to the ridiculous "Haud 
ye the fore birse (Forbes), and I'll gore doon" (Gor- 
don) ! Farther up the valley may be seen the magical 
' ' Bride 's Well, ' ' which young women on their wedding 
eve were wont to visit. By bathing the bride's feet 
and breasts any danger of "Race Suicide" was 
averted, and by dropping bread and cheese in the well, 
on leaving, the little strangers to come were insured 
from want. The Buck of the Cabrach overtops all 
mountains in the neighborhood, but the Tap o' Noth 
from its situation as seen from Lumsden is the most 
beautiful hill I have ever seen anywhere. Directly 

* I wish I could recall how many boundaries meet at the Caird's Hole 
in this fairy-haunted and tramp-infested hollow. It marks the junc- 
tion of Laird's lands, Presbyteries' Synods, County Council Districts, 
Constabulary Divisions, Road and Health Precincts, — and who knows 
what else? A man in trouble could escape into a good many different 
jurisdictions here with very little exertion. 



80 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

opposite it, to the south, Mt. Keen and Morven, both 
in the Grampian range, are discernible, and in the east 
the Hill of Coreen smiles across to the Buck. Below 
the village is a Peat Moss that has a never-failing sup- 
ply of fuel for the villagers, and for the farmers of 
a neighboring estate. From my window I can see a 
slap in the hills— now known as "Corse-o'-laigh"— 
where Edward the First's Army crossed on one of his 
warlike expeditions into this part of Scotland.* 

Up at Kildrummy Castle, now in ruins, many royal 
associations are clustered, of the times of Bobert the 
Bruce ; and such local names as ' ' Queensbridge ' ' imply 
association with the first lady of our land in bygone 
days, although the exact circumstances are not now 
known. 

While Kildrummy is a different parish, many 
Auchindoir people are buried in Kildrummy Church- 
yard, my own forbears among the number. Through 
the kindness of Bev. Andrew Christie, the minister of 
the parish, I gleaned many interesting and new par- 
ticulars about some of my kith and kin. 

It seems that my great-grandfather, James Law, 
was a noted salmon fisher, chiefly plying his sport on 
the Biver Don. The old story about salmon being so 
plentiful on the Dee that servants used to stipulate, on 
hiring, that they should not have salmon oftener than 
thrice a week, is quite discounted by my namesake's 
tactics. He was so fond of the fun, and was so suc- 
cessful with his rod and spear, that he always had 
more fish on hand than his family or friends could 
consume. The idea of selling his surplus stock would 
never have entered his head, so to what use, think you, 
did he subject the king of fishes'? Boiled them down 

* In addition to having the Mossat, Packet, Burn of Craig and 
Bogie, Auchindoir can also claim the source of the " Gaudie " stream, 
which will flow through Scottish song as long as it " rins at the back 
o' Bennachie." 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 81 

to make fat to grease his boots with ! It was nothing 
uncommon to see him running bare-footed and bare- 
legged on the banks of the Don on a frosty morning, 
his shoes and stockings dangling in his coat-tail pock- 
ets, so that he might walk home dry-shod later on! 
He had a brother who was the strongest man in the 
county, and many of his feats are still retold in the 
district. Others of the same stock were also noted for 
their strength. The Aberdeenshire Laws came from 
Fife, and were related to the Lauriston family that 
produced the "Mississippi Bubble" man. A Secre- 
tary of State for Scotland and an Archbishop of Glas- 
gow belonged to the same clan. The name, however, 
is common to the three countries of Scotland, England 
and Ireland. At present Mr. Hugh A. Law represents 
West Donegal in the House of Commons, as Mr. A. 
Bonar Law, the Parliamentary Secretary for the Board 
of Trade, sits for the Blackfriar's district of Glasgow, 
and Lord Ellenborough (Charles Towry Hamilton 
Law), the head of the English branch of the name, has 
a seat in the Upper House. One of the Salmon-Fish- 
er's descendants, my uncle, who " raised" me (as we 
say here), was quite a character in his way, and noted 
far and near for his quaint sayings as well as for his 
skill in the manly art of self-defense. John Law was 
once summoned before the Sheriff at Aberdeen for 
some row in which he had his share, and, as usual, 
had come out on top. The Sheriff was inclined to take 
the case "to avizandum"— -that is, to reserve decision 
until he gave it more consideration— and so announced 
his intention, greatly to John's disgust. He showed 
his displeasure at the law's delay by shouting, "If you 
are to let me off, let me off ; and if you are to fine me, 
fine me, and let me awa' hame." The Sheriff was 
plainly pleased as well as amused at this honest, 
straightforward sally, but pretended to scold, and said, 



82 HEEE AND THEEB IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"You should have come to me, John, when the man 
struck you, and not taken the law into your own hands 
by punishing him yourself." John instantly an- 
swered: "I doot if I had waited to come to you for 
help, by this time I would have been a gone corbie" 
(a dead crow) ! and the response was so well received 
that John was allowed to take his departure without 
any further debate. He was above the ordinary in 
education, and could coin a new word where he felt the 
want of it. At one time he embarked in cattle-dealing, 
but did not make a success of it. Explaining the rea- 
son to a friend, he said: "It wasna that I didna wish 
to mak' it go, but I didna just hae the cleverality." 
None could excel him in mock-heroics when he wished 
to be sarcastic, a good sample of his skill in this line 
being the pompous style in which he announced the 
birth of a boy whose father was a sapper, and whose 
fortune was poorer than even the ordinary run. 
' ' Have you heard the happy news ? ' ' said John. ' ' One 
of her most gracious Majesty's Royal Engineers has 
last night deigned to visit our humble clachan — with- 
oot a sark upon his back, and nae a bawbee to buy ane 
wi ! " The best of his stories are unfortunately in the 
fine, broad, graphic Scotch of Aberdeenshire, and lose 
much of their point and flavor when translated into 
English. In a serious vein he let off some excellent 
things. "Kindness," he would say, "is better than 
a' ye can eat or drink," and to one who was likely to 
secure a valuable appointment John advised : ' ' Gin ye 
do win on and do win on,— Be good to a' poor thing." 
His creed was summed up in a sentence which was also 
a commandment: "Dee (do) weel and ye '11 be weel 
here and hereafter." With malice towards none, but 
with charity for all, he spent the gloaming of his days 
amid the scenes of his childhood, and died in his 
eighty-eighth year with the respect and the affection 
of the whole community. 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 83 

An aunt of John's, Mary Law, of the Inner 's, was 
also widely noted for her droll sayings, one example 
of which must here suffice. She had been warned by 
the Doctor to keep to her bed, as he saw symptoms of 
serious illness in her, and also prescribed a poultice 
of porridge for her chest. Mary agreed to obey in- 
structions, but when the doctor called the next day he 
found her in a raging fever. Insisting that she had 
not kept her bed, as ordered, she admitted "that she 
might have got up occasionally to see what gig or cart 
was passing." "Then," said the doctor, "that ac- 
counts for your fever," to which Mary promptly re- 
sponded: "Fa could take a fiwer wi' a clort o' pot- 
tage at their breist ! ' ' 

I have delightful memories of visits paid to Mary 
when on trout-fishing expeditions with my Uncle John. 
No "pieces" ever tasted finer than the ones she pre- 
pared, unless perhaps the delicious scones and 
"croods" that I got farther up the hill at the "Saip- 
lins," where my cousin, Mrs. Reid, resided. As I re- 
member the district in those days there was nothing 
stinted about the hospitality anywhere. This may be 
partly accounted for by the fact that I had relatives in 
every direction. Once when my uncle was pointing 
out to me farm after farm and telling me in what way 
there was a family connection, I said: "We cannot 
be related to everybody in the parish, surely!" 
"Weel," he said, "there's nae mony hereaboot ye 
couldna hae some claim till gin a' was redd up"— 
which is not improbable in a settled country with an 
ancestry located in it for a few centuries. 

While speaking of relatives, I may here mention 
that I have discovered that one of my grandfathers was 
present at the Battle of New Orleans, and in the same 
British regiment with him were my two grand-uncles, 
who perished on that bloody field. My grandfather, 



84 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Norman, was also very stout and strong, but probably 
owed his life to the fact that he was only five feet eight 
in height, as his brothers Lachlan and John, both over 
six feet, were shining targets for General Jackson's 
marksmen, and fell early in the day, to remain forever 
on American soil. They were all pressed into service 
as vassals (by courtesy called tenants) of the Duke of 
Sutherland, and those who survived the American cam- 
paign and came home found their crafts turned into 
big sheep farms and their houses razed to the ground 
—a fine reward for their loyalty, and a common in- 
stance of the despotism, ingratitude and inhumanity 
of the landed proprietors of those days. Equally in- 
teresting to me was the information that on the Celtic 
side of my ancestry was the last of a race of bards, 
whose gift of poesy had descended from father to son 
for some generations. This particular poet's master- 
piece, says Logan in his "Highland Clans," is "reck- 
oned by many to be equal to anything in the Gaelic 
language. ' ' 

Now for a change in my chat. 

In the Bible somewhere I remember reading about 
darkness so intense that it could be felt. In Lumsden 
it is so dense that you can lean against it, sit upon it, 
or lie down on it as on a couch. To be out on its main 
street when it is dark and rainy is the nearest approach 
I know to being adrift on the Atlantic Ocean. Not a 
star is to be seen. There are somewhere, I believe, 
street lamps, but long ago it was decided that they were 
too much trouble, not to speak of the expense, so they 
lie covered with dust and laziness in the corner of some 
out-house, a gloomy reminder of Lumsden 's fondness 
for "ways that are dark." The folks of the Lum have 
no desire to let their light shine. In the shortest days 
here it is dark up to eight o'clock in the morning, and 
daylight dies out at half -past three on a stormy after- 



AMANG MY AIN" FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 85 

noon. But the lighting of house-lamps is regulated 
more by the clock than by the sun, and, most of all, by 
the pulling down of the blinds. One morning I stepped 
into the kitchen about 7:30, or " hauf -aucht, " as they 
say here. It was as dark as pitch, and I said, ' ' Where 
is your lamp? Don't you light it in the morning?" 
"Oh, ay," said my cousin, Letitia; "but it's oot noo." 
' ' Yes, ' ' said I, ' ' but see how dark it is!" "Ah, but, ' ' 
she said, "look at the clock!" "Well," I replied, 
"that does not matter— it's dark." "Yes, I ken," 
she said, "but the blind's up!" And this to her was 
a settler. It could be dark or light, as it pleased, she 
had pulled up the blind, and out the light had to go. 
Another afternoon I called on my Cousin Jean. We 
sat and talked while she was busy at her work of dress- 
making, and, although the gloaming soon set in, she 
kept at her sewing. When it got so dark that I could 
not see her, I hinted that it was surely time to light the 
lamp. "Eh, na," she says. "Fowk would speak 
aboot's if we lichted up as soon as this. My blind's 
nae doon yet ! ' ' When she saw from her windows that 
her neighbors had lit their lamps she plucked up cour- 
age to follow their example, but not before she pulled 
down the blind. I really believe some of the Lumsden 
people are disappointed that paraffine oil ever came 
into fashion. Candles are still used freely, and I have 
been able to procure from Donald Ross's widow a fine 
specimen of a " cruisie, ' ' as was in use about a genera- 
tion ago. This is a primitive lamp, composed of two 
flat iron shells, with spouts, one hung above the other. 
Melted tallow or grease is poured into the upper shell, 
and two or three rush wicks laid in the oil and lighted 
at the upper spout. The lower shell is to catch the 
excess drip, and the oil thus saved may be used again. 
A still more ancient form of light is the pine torch, 
which I remember using myself. Fat pieces of fir, 



86 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

full of rosin, were split into long, thin "candles," and, 
when dried and well toasted, made a fairly good light. 
Some houses had a "peer man" to hold those fir can- 
dles—the "poor man" being simply an iron hand fixed 
up near the fireplace ; but in most cases, if the old man 
"took the book," or wished to read from a newspaper, 
one of his children stood by his side and held the torch 
near him. Such a human candle-stick, as he told me 
himself, was the late Alexander Geddes, of Chicago, 
and Blairmore Castle in Glass. As a boy he held the 
fir for his father to read by, and before he died this 
same son was able to see his father reading by electric 
light in the palace erected on the same site where stood 
the humble cottage of his earlier days— a record per- 
haps unequalled by any other man in Scotland or in 
the British Isles. The electric light has been intro- 
duced at Craig Castle, within two miles of Lumsden, 
and is considered such a novelty by the natives of the 
district that they walk long distances to see it. I 
found several who rather resented the innovation as an 
infringement on their Cimmerian prerogatives, and 
sullenly declared that "nae good could come o' sic' 
cantrips." But it cannot be denied that darkness has 
advantages for Lumsden, at times, although individu- 
als may occasionally suffer. Strangers in the village 
are welcome to run against the pumps that are set up 
like pillar letter-boxes on the sidewalks about a hun- 
dred yards apart. A broken leg helps the country doc- 
tor, and even bruises bring some small grist to the 
chemist's shop. Then there are other compensations. 
When friends fall out at night, as friends will some- 
times do, all the world over, they can give and take 
completely screened from the rude, unfeeling gaze of 
neighbors. It was no doubt on such a night of dark- 
ness as Lumsden often has that two worthies fell 
a-fighting. They pelted each other as best they could,. 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 87 

but evidently made little headway when out of the 
gloom came a shrill, small voice: "Hit him on the 
watch, father— it will cost him something." It was 
on such a night as this, too, that one of the ministers, 
in walking down the main street of the village, almost 
ran into one of his flock. Poor Geordie had been hav- 
ing a little altercation with his better half, and decided 
it would be healthier "to sniff the caller air" outside. 
The minister asked him what he was doing. "Oh," 
he said, "my lum was reekin', and I just stepp'd oot. 
I wish you would look in and see how it is doing." 
Wishing to oblige, the minister walked to the door, 
and, just as he opened it, a female voice exclaimed: 
"Is that you again, ye auld deevilf " and the next mo- 
ment the minister's hat was crushed over his eyes with 
a cutty stool. Without making an outcry he closed the 
door, and, stepping up to Geordie, said : ' ' Oor lum at 
hame sometimes reeks, too," and passed on into the 
night. 

The most of the thrifty people here have only one 
idea of economy, and that is, to save every penny they 
can lay their hands on. They are not enterprising, 
and the speculative element is entirely absent from 
their composition. If they were shown that by spend- 
ing a shilling they could get two shillings they would 
laugh at you, and hold on to their "bob." Every 
spare copper with them is a prisoner. But there are 
many, again, who spend recklessly on whisky or to- 
bacco, and it is really surprising how much goes in 
that direction with them in proportion to income. The 
general style of living is bare, even niggardly, to one 
accustomed to a bountiful American bill of fare, and, 
as to house or home comforts, few know anything 
whatever regarding them. In many cases, too, it is 
not for want of means. Farmers worth hundreds, yes 
thousands, of pounds, will live in a state of semi-star- 



88 HEKE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

vation and barbarity, in half-furnished rooms, often 
without fire in the middle of winter, and without any 
of our Yankee necessities, not to mention luxuries. 
Instances are plentiful where as much money will be 
wasted in "treating" on a single market day as would 
keep cosy every room in a big farm-house for a whole 
winter season, but by such spenders any one who used 
his money so sensibly (as to be comfortable) would 
be classed as eccentric or ' ' saf t, ' ' and his early down- 
fall confidently predicted. They look on people who 
provide a good table with contempt, and for a man to 
treat any one to a good dinner or supper at an inn or 
hotel instead of spending six times as much on strong 
drink simply means, in their estimation, the height of 
folly, and the last stage of prodigality. So it is in 
regard to the condition, furnishings and conveniences 
of too many of their houses. To my certain knowl- 
edge the dwellings on two of the finest farms "in the 
run of Bogie" are worse hovels than we would ask the 
poorest and lowest negroes in the United States to 
occupy. To describe these "homes" in detail would 
demand the pen of a Douglas, a Balzac or a Zola. The 
buildings may have been standing a thousand years, to 
judge from appearances. The walls are as loose as 
an open dyke ; the roofs a miserable patchwork of rot- 
ten broom, straw and broken slates, in many cases held 
down by ropes, stones, planks, and even broken-down 
harrows, wheels and other discarded farming imple- 
ments. The windows have not a single sound pane of 
glass, and are half -filled with brown paper, old news- 
papers and filthy rags. The doors have never seen 
paint of any kind. Inside the conditions are still 
worse. There is no pretense at floors, except that at 
one time flag-stones had been laid somewhere between 
the entry and the fireplace. The furnishings of the 
rooms are of the rudest, crudest type. When it rains, 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 89 

which it does about five days out of seven, and eighteen 
hours out of every twenty-four, it is real sport to find 
a spot dry enough to sit or stand in for ten minutes 
at a time. Umbrellas are as essential for bedrooms 
as blankets, if one wishes to sleep undisturbed and 
wake up dry. Everything is black with smoke and 
soot, and even in the matter of smell "the offense is 
rank," and cries out to Heaven. Such "homes" are 
a disgrace to a civilized community, and a crime that 
some one should be made responsible for. I know all 
about the proverb that relates to the bird that defiles 
its own nest, but the fault is with the defiler and not 
with the one that has the courage to draw attention 
to it. If the good people at home sit blindfolded it is 
a real kindness to remove their bandages and let them 
see things as they actually are. As John Knox used 
to ask, and George Buchanan before him: "Is it the 
truth?" When the answer must be "Yes," whether 
what is written pleases or displeases is of secondary 
importance. The proprietor of the farms is the Duke 
of Eichmond and Gordon. His dealings with his ten- 
ants are through factors, or agents, and in such cases 
as I have cited the factor is unquestionably more to 
blame than the Duke. His Grace is personally said to 
be a humane man, and, as landlords go, considered a 
good one; but His Grace's servant, in this instance, 
must have a heart of granite and a conscience of cast- 
iron to permit such rookeries to disfigure the turnpike 
side. His duty is to see that the property in his care 
is fit for human habitation at least, and nothing can be 
advanced to excuse him from the greatest share of the 
censure that must fall on every one in any way con- 
nected with the disgraceful exhibition. The tenant 
must also be to blame in part, as, if he is fit to occupy 
the farms, he can most certainly command better ac- 



90 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

commodations.* I even felt that I could scold the 
parish ministers for failing to protest against such 
hovels, but later experience in the district has shown 
me how small now-a-days is the influence of the parson 
and how limited his powers. 

I have met all the clergymen here, and good men 
they are, every one of them. Their sermons are excel- 
lent, practical and stimulating, but it's a pretty dour 
soil they have in which to sow the seed ! One particu- 
larly fine discourse I listened to was on the subject of 
" Kindness and Thoughtfulness. " It was a model in 
every way, and touched strongly on faults and failings 
common to us all. I felt sure it would bear good fruit, 
and without delay. In coming from church to the vil- 
lage—a distance of two miles— I had noticed many old 
and feeble men and women, hardly able to make such 
a long journey. Elders' gigs had passed them by, 
and, in spite of vacant seats, I had never seen a 
friendly lift given to any one. Now, after such a pow- 
erful preachment as we had listened to, the elders 
would certainly "tak' a thocht and men'!" But no! 
They sailed by the old, the halt and the infirm, splash- 
ing them with the mud from their gig-wheels in the old- 
fashioned style. Every vehicle had three vacant seats, 
that could have made three poor pilgrims happy, but 
the occupants did not believe in bothering themselves 
to impart any help or pleasure to their less fortunate 
neighbors ; in other words, they did not pay any atten- 
tion to their minister's harangue no more than if they 
had slept through his whole sermon, as probably some 
of them did ! 



* It is only fair to state that as soon as the Duke was personally 
appraised of the condition of affairs above described he gave the 
matter immediate attention, and ordered new buildings to be erected 
at once. This placed the blame directly at the Factor's door, and 
happily, for the good of the Estate and the suffering Tenantry, a change 
was soon after made in the local management. 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 91 

I have been told that there is a sanitary inspector 
who could condemn such houses as I have partially 
described above, and can only conclude that in such 
cases as the ones mentioned he has been muzzled and 
blinded and bought over to neglect his duty, because 
no fair-minded man could see such horrible conditions 
and conscientiously say the dwellings were fit for hu- 
man habitation. 

My boy Duff, who has been here over a year 
now, says with a large proportion the motto of Scot- 
land is not "Nemo me impune lacessit," but "What's 
the use ? ' ' This is the uniform question and answer to 
every hint or suggestion implying improvement or 
change. Ambition with them is certainly at a low 
ebb. They think and say that what was good enough 
for their parents is good enough for them. Any bet- 
terment of their condition that means the least exertion 
or extra work is quickly dismissed. 

This spirit operates against them in other ways. 
Many of the young men would rather live on meal and 
water and hang around home (in very truth only eking 
out a miserable existence) than push out to try their 
fortune in better fields. Perhaps it is for this reason 
that the good, enterprising, successful Scots do best in 
foreign lands. If they have any spunk at all they 
escape from country life under the low, sordid, de- 
pressing, emasculating conditions around them. The 
vigorous and the superior grades come to the top like 
cream, and a praiseworthy dissatisfaction with their 
life gives them no rest until they find elsewhere what 
was denied them in their native glens and vales. It is 
no ordinary spirit or ability that rises superior to the 
abasing— I had almost said debasing— surroundings 
of country life that too largely prevail now-a-days 
in the north of Scotland, and the young man or young 
woman who succeeds in breaking through their envi- 



92 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

ronment finds after success in life in almost any sphere 
and clime comparatively easy. Do not for a moment 
imagine, however, that all are alike here, any more 
than elsewhere. Even amongst those who stay at home 
there are fine specimens of progressive manhood that 
would reflect honor on any country. I write of the 
average masses, and not of the exceptions, whether in- 
dividuals or classes. The farmers who are fairly suc- 
cessful have the best that is agoing in implements and 
stock, and at rare intervals one will be found that in- 
sists on having the best also for himself and family. 
But, at the finest— and perhaps this is their fairest ex- 
cuse—farming is a sorry business. Rents are high, 
and the climate "invariably uncertain." Many of the 
crofts and farms Americans would not work as a gift 
rent free. In the main the rule still holds that the 
farmer who improves his place can depend upon his 
reward in the shape of advanced rent at the end of his 
lease. Retired tradesmen and merchants are always 
plentiful enough to keep the rents at abnormal figures, 
so that the legitimate agriculturist has a sorry time of 
it. There are no industries or factories in this section, 
the nearest approach being two freestone quarries, that 
would not give work all the year 'round to a score of 
men. If a man is not regularly employed at farming 
he can find odd jobs at breaking stone for road-metal 
— and when that is mentioned his chances are ex- 
hausted. 

The village, with a population of about 500,* sup- 

* To Mr. W. G. Sillif ant the courteous and capable Registrar of the 
parish, I am indebted for the following figures: 
Auchindoir Census, 1901. 

Males. Females. Total. 

In Lumsden . 255 232 487 

Remainder of Parish 356 373 729 

Totals 611 605 1216 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 93 

ports six general merchants, handling all kinds of 
requisites, one of them being licensed to sell liquors, 
and one having a chemist's shop. Three of them have 
tailoring establishments (and there is a new establish- 
ment, since this letter was written, exclusively devoted 
to tailoring). Three of the shops handle newspapers 
and reading matter of various kinds. There is also a 
watchmaker in the village, and a baker, but no butcher. 
There is one inn and one horse-hiring establishment. 
Three boot and shoe shops are needed, and in any of 
them you can have footgear made from start to finish. 
The 'cycle dealer and repairer is here, and there is 
also a contracting carpenter and a contracting mason. 
The nearest railway station is eight miles distant, but 
the village has a postoffice, with two mails daily, and 
a telegraph office, open from eight to eight ' ' on lawful 
days," and for two hours on Sundays. That last 
phrase puts me in mind of a good story told about 
Queen Victoria. She was fond of asking the Dowager 
Duchess of Atholl to read the famous notice about the 
Blairgowrie coach. The name of it was the "Duchess 
of Atholl," and the name of the hotel which was its 
headquarters was "The Duke's Arms." When her 
late Majesty wished to make sure of a good laugh she 
would call for a re-reading of the advertisement which 
was as follows : " 'The Duchess of Atholl' leaves 'The 
Duke's Arms' every lawful day at 6 a. m., and at 10 
o'clock on Sundays!" To resume our village direc- 
tory: We have one bank— a branch of The North of 
Scotland Banking Company, one public school, one 



Number of Houses in Village 116 

Number of Houses in balance of Parish 152 

268 
The total population in 1881 was 1514, and 1S91, 1374, showing a 
decrease of 140 in 10 years and decrease of 298 in 20 years. Is this 
a fair sample of the depopulation of our Scottish rural districts? 



94 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

church (United Free), and one blacksmith shop. I 
have noticed several women assiduously knitting stock- 
ings, and believe they do a small business with the 
merchants in that line. There is no barber shop and 
no laundry shop. For evening entertainment, young 
men collect on street corners or frequent the tailors' 
and shoemakers' shops. Card parties are popular, 
whist being the favorite game. Occasionally the 
"dam-brod" is taken out and some good players have 
been developed. A dancing-master has a small private 
class two or three nights a week. About the New Year 
time balls are frequent, and the once famous annual 
' ' shooting match ' ' still survives on a diminished scale, 
but the great "blow-out" of this season is dignified 
by the high-sounding Italian name of "Conversa- 
zione. " It is only another example of how prone the 
ignorant are to use hifalutin words, and, similarly, to 
indulge in what is tawdry and irritatingly superfluous, 
forgetting that simplicity is far superior to gaudiness 
and tinsel and kindred vulgarities. The same ten- 
dency is shown in the decorations of homes and per- 
sons, where any attempt is made to rise above the bare 
necessities. Instead of a good, solid, serviceable 
table, chair or lamp, some ridiculous monstrosity is 
purchased (at an exorbitant figure), neither fit to write 
on, sit on, or to give any light whatever. In place of 
stout, strong, homespuns, never out of fashion and 
always beautiful, the would-be dandies trick them- 
selves up in worthless shoddy, gorgeous patterns and 
fantastic design, while the belles, in ribbons and bib- 
bons and laces and feathers seem to vie with each other 
in the display of freakish finery, and ugly, rubbishy, 
irritating " f ol-de-rols. " But this weakness is not 
confined to any particular clime or country, so doubt- 
less it is an innate tendency that is one of the neces- 
sary steps of human evolution. 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 95 

A great deal of the trouble and lack of progress in 
this district is due to the love and practice of gossip 
and scandal ; the almost total neglect of mental culture 
of any kind ; and, as in the case of the Irish, the failure 
to agree and unite for their common good. As I re- 
marked before, the churches seem to have little real 
influence over the people. The services are respected, 
so long as they last, but it would take more than an 
hour's spiritual leaven to influence the material dough 
of an Auchindoir week. And yet nowhere in all my 
travels have I felt more benefited by church attendance 
than amang the kirks of my ain folk. The simplicity 
of the exercises must be their greatest charm. At the 
U. F. Church in Lumsden and at the Parish Church 
of Auchindoir, I felt nearer to my idea of rational, 
reverent worship than in any of my other experiences 
in this line, and being curious in such matters, I have 
never missed an opportunity to see the best, or most 
noted, wherever I might be located. The Scottish 
rhymed versions of the Psalms are used, and some of 
the stanzas are appalling from a rhythmic or metrical 
standpoint, but the beautiful tunes to which they are 
sung would soften any ruggedness and consecrate 
verses even more grotesque. In Auchindoir we do not 
have the "showding" that may still be seen in the 
Cabrach. This is a practice of gently swaying the 
body to the rhythm of the psalm-tune, and when done 
in unison and seriously by the whole congregation, it 
has a comic effect to a stranger. I have seen it in full 
force at Negro religious camp meetings, but the move- 
ments there were considerably brisker, and more than 
once culminated in a whirlwind of excitement, ending 
in irregular collapse. No big Carnegie ''last o' 
whistles" has broken into any of the Auchindoir 
churches yet, but all are equipped with modest harmo- 
niums that unobtrusively add to the pleasure of the 



96 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

singing. The precentor is still only second in im- 
portance to the minister, and the stories that cluster 
around the old-time "letter-gae" rank with the best 
specimens of Scottish humor. I have seen some rare 
happenings myself when an amateur like "Bithnie," 
Diack, or Cryle, volunteered to lead the singing, or 
what is more likely had been pressed into the leader- 
ship of the choir. But whether keys were pitched too 
high or too low, whether the tunes were suitable to the 
measure or not— yes, even in extreme cases, where a 
false start compelled a dead stop in the middle of a 
line that could not be compressed or stretched any 
farther — the man was always equal to the occasion, 
and did not hesitate to begin all over again, and finally 
ended in triumph. Innovations in tunes were never 
popular, and an instance is on record where the pre- 
centor and his aids were publicly rebuked. After they 
had finished the new-fangled rendition the minister got 
up and with unconcealed rage announced: "Since the 
precentor and choir have sung to their own praise and 
glory, we shall now sing to the praise and glory of 
God"— leading off, himself, with some old favorite 
like "French" or "Martyrdom," in which the con- 
gregation heartily joined. I missed many of the old 
"characters," who had, in the words of my old Sun- 
day-school teacher, "gone to where the wicked cease 
from troubling and the weary are at rest. ' ' This dear 
old man and I were great friends until I committed 
the never-to-be-forgiven crime of going to London 
without asking his permission! The fact is I ran off 
from home, when fifteen years of age, and beat my way 
to the world's greatest city without consulting any one. 
When I got back to the Lum, fresh from my Metro- 
politan triumphs, my old teacher cut me dead. It 
seems that up to the time of my exploit he was the 
only man in the village who had ever been so far from 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IF THE AULD HAME. 97 

home, and of course I was now a formidable rival to 
his travelled glory. I heard of his anger and even now 
I wonder at my daring in going back to his Sunday- 
school class, although he always said I was his best 
scholar. The gentle William now had me where he 
wanted me and for a long time played with me as a cat 
plays with a mouse, making only jocular references to 
the return of the prodigal son and such like Biblical 
stories. But at last his pent-up wrath exploded, and 
all the vials of it were emptied on my devoted head. 
He pictured the impudence of a youngster like me 
going to London, when he, William Barron, had been 
an old man before going so far, and even then he was 
accompanied by a guide. Then he took another tack 
and said it was extremely doubtful if I had ever really 
been there. Could I bring any one to prove it? Of 
course I could not ! I remembered visiting the Tower, 
and the Mayor's Office, St. Paul's Cathedral and the 
Royal Exchange, but I had not influence enough to 
transport them to Lumsden nor power enough to make 
them speak for me even if I had got them there. I 
recall that I had sold a nice jack-knife to buy paper 
and envelope and stamp to send a letter home from 
London to my uncle to satisfy him I had actually been 
in the great city, but such prejudiced testimony was 
out of the question with my relentless judge. Finally, 
having worn himself out, he pulled his watch out of 
his pocket and brandishing it under my nose, with his 
face wreathed in smiles, he said: "He may and he 
may not have been in London, but one thing is certain 
sure, — he hasna got a gold watch yet ! ! ! That was 
a crusher, and I doubtless crept home the most crest- 
fallen youth in Lumsden. William also cut me out of 
a five-pound legacy he had left me in his will, so I paid 
dear enough for my frolic. Last winter I was telling 
this story with my wonted gusto to Mrs. Strachan, of 



98 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Bucharn, near Huntly, and when I reached the climax 
amidst unusual merriment from the balance of my 
audience, she quietly said: "Ay, that was jist like 
Willie." I smelt a rat at once and I said: "You did 
not know him, did you?" "Weel, I think I sud," 
she said, "he was my ain uncle!" It took some cat- 
like gymnastics for me to come down gracefully, hut 
they tell me I managed to light nicely on my feet. 

"Jeems" Cameron was another village hero, and 
when he walked home from the "stroop" with his 
water pails he always suggested to me the stately 
"march of the Cameron men. ' ' I wish I had the space 
to mention more of the ' ' characters ' ' of the place, but 
I have them all embalmed in verse somewhere, and it 
would be a work of supererogation to touch them up 
again in prose. 

Of another type were the two leading ministers of 
my early days, Rev. Wm. Reid, of the Established 
Church of Auchindoir, and Rev. Harry Nicoll, of the 
Free Church at Lumsden, but also of the parish of 
Auchindoir. Mr. Nicoll, as I have elsewhere said, was 
the greatest reader of his time, and had the biggest 
private library in Scotland. I have recollections of 
him moving noiselessly among his books, able at any 
time to put his hands on anything he wanted, and to 
place his finger unerringly to the paragraph he desired, 
no matter what the apparent confusion of arrangement 
might be. I even once saw him with an ordinary 
kitchen "heater" ironing out the dog-ear marks some 
careless and unsympathetic readers had made in his 
beloved literary treasures. He was a scholar and critic 
of high degree, but with all his gifts and opportunities 
he did not leave us a single book of his own to be re- 
membered by. In discussing this with his gifted son, 
Dr. Robertson Nicoll, he said his father had serious in- 
tentions of writing on many topics, but put it off with 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 99 

the strange idea that a man should not begin to pro- 
duce print until almost everything else in life was set- 
tled or adjusted. Then when that period was reached 
he still withheld his pen, thinking to commence might 
hasten his end, as some people put off insuring and 
making their wills from the dread that by doing so they 
accelerate their departure. It is greatly to be re- 
gretted in his case, as he could not have failed to adorn 
anything he discussed. Perhaps he had read too much 
and was too severe a critic of himself. Did not Burns 
say that if he had been acquainted with all the master- 
pieces of poetry in his early years he most certainly 
should not have attempted what he did? It has al- 
ways been a theory of mine that some minds— and not 
the poorest — get more inspiration from mediocrity 
than from excellence. When they see perfection they 
are dazzled, benumbed, chilled, paralyzed. When they 
see work only fairly well done they are encouraged to 
show they can eclipse it, and in this way, I doubt not, 
many geniuses are originated, nourished, developed 
and completed. Mr. NicolPs family has, however, 
made ample amends for the paternal reticence. One 
of his daughters wrote poems of pensive beauty; his 
son, Hemy James, made a world-wide fame for him- 
self, although cut off at the beginning of his literary 
career, and we all know something of what Dr. William 
has done. 

Mr. Reid always impressed me as if I was a special 
favorite of his, and many a sixpence and pocket-knife 
he gave me. I don't remember the good advice which 
I doubt not accompanied them, but they always im- 
pressed me as being either rewards or admonitions, 
and as often as I saw them or thought of them they 
spoke their lesson or preached their little sermon. In 
the pulpit Mr. Reid was another man to me— a fine ex- 
temporaneous preacher— but just a trifle awesome to 

LofC. 



100 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

the wee laddie who could hardly see over the pew. 
More than once I have fallen alseep in the midst of a 
long discourse, to be fitfully awakened by a punctuat- 
ing thump on the pulpit, or a few sweeties quietly 
handed over from the Glenbogie seat. Mr. Reid's 
children have been more than ordinarily successful in 
their chosen careers, two sons attaining high eminence 
as medical men, and Sir Alexander bringing back to 
Auchindoir as bright a military glory as the proudest 
knight that was ever associated with it. 

For the advancement of the Aberdeenshire and Scot- 
tish farmer generally a combine or trust is greatly 
needed, and, if accomplishable, should benefit every- 
body and hurt nobody except a few middlemen, who 
are not under the circumstances worth considering. 
Such a plan, however, will never be carried to success 
by local men, as the envy and jealousy everywhere 
prevalent could not possibly be surmounted by any 
farmers known to the people here. As it is, farmers 
are now compelled to buy everything in the dearest 
market and sell their product in the cheapest. There 
is no finer beef anywhere than the polled Aberdeen- 
Angus. It is as much admired in Lancaster as it is 
in London, and American breeders have spent fortunes 
to get the best strains of the stock for their herds. 
The highest prices the world has any record of have 
been paid for the Aberdeenshire "hummlies" or "dod- 
dies" that owe so much to the Tillyfour farmer of my 
native county. Herds of great value are now com- 
mon all over the land. While appreciating the patron- 
age of "the Yankees," as they call the United States 
dealers, the Scotch farmers at present have a grievance 
against them. It seems that the Americans make a 
practice of visiting all the leading herds, and buying 
right and left the choicest animals, provided they can 
afterwards stand "test," the test— which is for tuber- 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 101 

culosis— being made by the Americans, or some one in 
their pay. In this way the Scotchmen contend the 
Americans have their choice and option on all the mar- 
ket, and after seeing every herd they can, cull out what 
best pleases them, rejecting also anything that suits 
them, without offering any excuse except that the stock 
was not "up to the test." Animals so rejected, after 
having been set aside for the Americans, are greatly 
depreciated in value, to the loss of the Scotch farmers 
and the lowering of the prestige of their herds, and 
the chances are that a fairer system of buying will be 
in operation in the near future. The Scotchmen also 
surfer from the unfair and dishonest tactics of the 
wholesale butchers or meat dealers, and with very lit- 
tle excuse, it seems to me, on such a monopolistic com- 
modity as Aberdeen-Angus beef. It could be easily 
controlled by a union centered in Aberdeen, and the 
best prices obtained there. The present ruinous plan 
is to send the dead meat to London, to a commission 
merchant, and take what he cares to offer. On the 
strength of sixty sides, or thirty head of cattle, the 
London butchers will sell over their counters at least 
two hundred sides, some hailing from Canada and 
some from almost every county, as well as Aberdeen. 
A trust, with a good business manager, could positively 
keep a check on all beef offered, and in a short time 
would have the London butchers in Aberdeen bidding 
against each other for the true Aberdeen- Angus stock, 
instead of getting the best at their own terms, and sell- 
ing inferior beef, pretending it is the genuine article. 
Such a trust or union could also secure better prices 
for everything from the farm, and would save any 
amount of money in the buying of seed, manure, im- 
plements and stock. This plan, as I said, would benefit 
everybody— proprietors and tenants, and would not be 
felt by consumers, as the savings would be taken mostly 



102 HEEE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

from the present middlemen, who are, so far as I can 
see, the worst enemies the farmers now have. 

I had the opportunity of looking through the fine 
Sherd of Mr. George Cran, of Morlich, Towie, and felt 
quite near my American home again when I heard him 
talking familiarly of the Judys of Indiana, and saw 
the Breeders' Gazette with references to our own elo- 
quent Hon. Frank B. McClain, who had been presiding 
at one of the big stockmen's banquets in Chicago. In 
Mr. Cran's parlor I saw a display of silverware suffi- 
cient to set up a first-class silversmith's shop— loving 
cups, basins, ewers, salvers, spoons, etc., including 
trophies direct from the Queen, and all prizes won by 
the Braemorlich herd. 

Auchindoir is a long parish, parts of it running be- 
low Rhyme village, as other portions in other direc- 
tions seem to be geographically out of place. But even 
that, like most things, has its compensations. For in- 
stance, my friend, Mr. James Paterson, the efficient Sec- 
retary of the School Board for more than a generation, 
finds it convenient in the matter of church-going. He 
lives nearer to Ehynie Church than he does to his own 
parish church of Auchindoir, and if he does not show 
up at one the presumption is that he is worshipping 
at the other! That is not falling between two stools, 
but sitting siccarly in mid-air without any damage to 
his dignity or harm to his reputation. Robert Cham- 
bers managed the same thing in Edinburgh by renting 
pews in two different places, but the braw lad of Braw- 
land accomplishes as good results by the mere luck of 
locality and without any puckering of his pocket- 
book.* 



* The writer's position in the present volume is somewhat akin, hav- 
ing two distinct audiences to bear in mind. If my Scotch readers who 
do not like any particular chapter will only believe that it is enjoyed 
by my American patrons, and they in turn will kindly consider that the 



AMANG MY AIN FOLK IN THE AULD HAME. 103 

Good varieties of granite abound in Auchindoir, and 
this particular industry might be profitably developed. 
The old red sandstone quarries, near the Broom, have 
been worked for generations. Asbestos has been 
picked up in Towanreef Hill, and Cairngorms are occa- 
sionally found in the Burn of Craig. 

No doubt the very best natural resource of the parish 
is its healthfulness. Statistics show that in this re- 
spect it is unsurpassed by any district in Great Britain. 
Lumsden Village is 745 feet above the sea-level, and 
after Tomintoul and Leadhills is, I believe, the highest 
hamlet in Scotland. Of recent years ' ' The Lum ' ' has 
grown in popularity as a summer resort, and certainly 
it would be hard to find its equal as a genuine rural 
retreat, since it is as yet unspoiled by the weakly 
"week-ender," and is not overrun by the more leis- 
urely loungers who have corrupted so many of Scot- 
land's choicest country towns. 

portions of the book they may not fancy are the particular tit-bits of 
my old-country friends I shall be in the happy position of having every 
line appreciated somewhere! 



THE SACK OF ATTCHINDOBE. 

[O, bricht is auld Kildrummy's hue in mony a fine historic sang! And 
Towie and Glenkindie too have thus been named and famed for lang. 
E'en Cabrach, Gairtly, Bhynie, Claitt we rin across at antrin times, 
but Auchindore is rarely met amang the Ballad Minstrel's rhymes. 
Yet in the days when books were scarce oor pairish didna legends lack 
and this bit strowd o' rugged verse I've rescued frae Oblivion's pack. 
To get the time or epoch clear your thochts ye'll hae to backward turn 
till something like a hunner year afore the fecht at Bannockburn.] 

THE SACK OF AUCHINDOIE. 

Upon the border of the Land 

Of ancient Craig in Auchindore 
Near whaur the Auld Kirk ruins stand 

A stately castle stood of yore. 

Surrounded by its wall and moat, 
Which still distinctly may be traced, 

No Baron's keep of greater note 

The bounds of Aberdeenshire graced. 

Here rich in men and stock and store 

With gear and gold in goodly sum 
Lived Irvine, Lord of Auchindore 

And Laird of all the Lands of Drum. 

His Lady was a fitting mate, 

For he had taken for his wife 
A fair-haired daughter of the great 

And three times noble House of Fife. 

The Noth's proud Tap by Castle Duff, 
Her princely father's seat, was crowned, 

And there by wooing swift and rough 
The gallant Drum his bride had found. 

With careful steps from hill to plain 

His lovely prize he proudly bore 
To gie her. a' he ca'd his ain 

And mak' her Queen o' Auchindore. 
104 



THE SACK OF AUCHINDORE 105 

The Thane o' Fife was in the Sooth 
When tidings reached him o' the raid 

And brought the story of the youth 
That robbed him of his bonny maid. 

" Presumptuous thief!" he loudly cried, 
' ' To think that such a lowly kern 
Should dare to dream to be allied 
By wedlock to a royal bairn ! 

"I'm Lord of Fife and Earl of Weems, 
Of kingly stock myself beside, 
And woe betide the churl that dreams 
To mak' my only heir his bride! 

"As needs no rhyming seer to tell 

By shires she yet will count her land 
And Scotland's mighty king himsel' 
Might well be proud to claim her hand ! 

"Arouse!" he thundered in his ire, 
"False Auchindore shall rue the day 
When in the absence of her sire 
He stole the Lass of Noth away ! 

"We'll seek no more the Sacred Cross 
Nor linger by the Holy Well,* 
But come again when greater loss 
Or greater gain is ours to tell ! ' ' 

But ere the Tap o' Noth he gained 

And his deserted home had seen 
Six happy moons had waxed and waned 

Since Auchindore had wedded been. 

Behind his high and armor 'd walls, 

Unthinking of his doom, I wiss, 
Sir Irvine wander 'd through his halls 

Reflecting on his wedded bliss. 



* These are noted Duff Sanctuary Shrines in Fife-shire. The Cross, 
located near Couper, bore a curious inscription in which Pictish, Gothic 
and Latin were intermixed, showing its great antiquity. The Holy 
Well is also in the same neighborhood. 



106 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

His bonny spouse kept by his side, 
Now reconciled and happy too, 

Reflecting pleasure, love and pride 
In rosy cheeks and eyes of blue. 

No grating sounds were heard to jar 
That balmy August afternoon ; 

No vexing sourness came to mar 
The sweetness of their honeymoon. 

The birds upon the leafy boughs 
Made music to their hearts' desire, 

And doon the howes and up the knowes 
Were warbling in a joyful choir. 

The burnie singin' doon the Den 
Made music roun' the Castle wa' 

And far'rer up the wooded Glen 
They heard the liltin' Waterfa'. 

The bonny woods o' Clova sighed 

As gently as a sleepin' sea, 
And on the Moat the Warder plied 

His oar, with movements soft and free. 

The Buck smiled o'er the peaceful vale 
To catch a blink f rae Mount o ' Keen 

And Towanreef was seen to hail 
The quarried face o' blue Coreen. 

To Dunideer Knock-Caillach show'd 
Her Druid Crown in queenly style 

And old Kildrummy's turrets glow'd 
Till seen by Huntly's lordly pile. 

The Bogie in a winding thread 

Through grassy haughs like silver shone 

And southwards where the Mossat led 
Was seen the sparkle of the Don. 

"0, changes many here have been, 

But changeless are the streams and rills ; 
The lands have many changes seen, 
But changeth not the changeless hills! 



THE SACK OP AUCHINDOEE 107 

''And though the sea may undermine 

And wreck the Earth by seismic wars, 
Still overhead will brightly shine 

The steadfast sun and moon and stars." 

Thus spoke the Knight of Auchindore 

While musing on the lovely view, 
And gloaming shadows gathered o'er 

The still more distant peaks of blue. 

His Bride crept near as if in fright, 
And pointing to the North she said: 
"The Tap o' Noth looks black to-night 
And it alone of all I dread. 

"My father's castle seems to toss 
Its yellow flag as if for war 
And look! Is that the Fiery Cross 
That shines beside it like a star?" 

The Squire obeyed his wife's behest 

In hope to see the spark expire, 
But soon upon the mountain crest 

They saw the heather all on fire. 

"The signal of your sire," he said, 
"And now, behold, by Bruntlan Glen 
The vanguard o' his cavalcade- 
He '11 soon be here wi' a' his men. 

' ' Come, Evalina, seek your room 

And keep yourself from fear and harm, 
For helm of steel I'll doff my plume 
And love for you will nerve my arm. 

"Your father comes to tak' you hame 
By force, if need be, frae my side, 
But I hae noo the greater claim, 
And only Death shall us divide." 

He hadna got his men in trim, 

His doors and windows bolted weel, 
When roun' the castle's moated rim 

Was heard the clank of angry steel. 



108 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

The great MacDuff: then cried aloud : 
"Bring out my daughter, Auehindore ! ' * 
But never was an Irvine eow'd 
By ony merely human roar. 

Again was lifted up the voice 

Of Duff, the haughty and the brave: 
"False Irvine mak' the nicht your, choice, — 
My daughter— or a fiery grave." 

Proud Auehindore made answer then: 
' ' Thy pardon, sire, I do not beg, 
And think not you nor a' your men 
A Laird o' Drum can ever fleg. 

' ' I took your daughter, I concede ; 
I have her now, I frankly own ; 
True Love has ratified the deed; 
Her heart was hers and hers alone. 

"It suits her well to bide with me, 
And stay she shall in Auehindore, 
In spite of all the Duffs that be, 

Though they were twice as many more. ' ' 

Then "Burn the castle doon," said Fife, 
"In his ain fat the rat will fry; 
His serving men and maids — and wife, 
We'll waft their ashes to the sky." 

At this his daughter climbed her stair 
And from the ramparts on the wall 

She with her beauty hushed the air 
And softly to her sire did call: 

*'0, Father, quench your burning brand, 
And tell your, soldiers to depart. 
Sir Irvine only got my hand 
When he had captured all my heart. 

' ' He did not seek your gold and gear ; 
He does not ask for dowry-fee ; 
No costly sequels need you fear; 
He is content with — only me. 



THE SACK OF AUCHINDOEE 109 

"And if he robbed you, as you say, 
Of heir and daughter, both in one, 
The loss I doubly can repay 
When you accept him as your son. ' ' 

"No more," said Duff, with fiercer ire; 
"To think my child so low should come 
As be content to spurn her sire 

And wed the paltry Laird of Drum. 

"Besiege the castle; and to-night 
Begin with fire instead of sword, 
That Eva may have better light 
To know that Duff is still her lord. 

' ' To any man within the keep 

Deserting Drum to work for me 
As many acres may he reap 
As he may need— forever free." 

But no one moved the prize to win, 
And then he offered, still more bold: 
"To him who fires the rooms within 
I'll give his weight in solid gold." 

Still Irvine's men the bait repelled, 

And, though 'twas doubled, were not sway 'd. 

But when the bribe was three times swell'd 
A graspin' loon his trust betray 'd. 

Nae sign he made; nae word he spoke 

Till but a sentence he could speak, 
For lo ! he was the first to choke 

And smore amang the fatal reek. 

By this time a' the place was doomed, 

Wi' nae a chance escape to mak' 
The lower rooms amaist consumed 

The upper rooms' approachin' wrack. 

The Lady Irvine once again 

Unto the outer wall came nigh, 
And showing more of grief than pain 
She clearly to her sire did cry: 
9 



110 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"Now, father, all are gone but me, 
And one by one I saw them go ; 
The father of my babe to be 
In death's embrace is lying low. 

"I have no yearning to exist, 

Of lord and lands and castle shorn, 
But wish misfortune to desist 

That I might save— my child — unborn." 

At this she swooned — and as she fell, 
MacDuff himself sprang in the moat, 

Swam boldly to the keep, and well 
He kept his fighting graith afloat. 

He nimbly scaled the castle wa', 
And, reckless of the risks around, 

Without a stumble or a fa', 

He brought his daughter to the ground. 

There willing hands were prompt to aid, 
The moat once more was safely crosst, 

And in a litter she was laid, 

For whom so much so soon was lost. 

They bore her back to Tap o ' Noth, 
Where duly was her baby born, 

And long did son and mother both 
The castle of the Duffs adorn. 

But Auchindore was ne'er rebuillt, 
And ne'er will be until the date 

When Time has fully purged the guilt 
So foully thrust on Fife's estate. 

And that, 'tis said, can only come 
When those predictions are fulfilled 

That once were made of Duff and Drum 
By one who was in seership skilled. 



THE SACK OF AUCHINDOKE 111 

Balwearie* once was entertained 

By Lady Irvine and her boy, 
And long the dame was held enchained 

By bodes her race would yet enjoy. 

The Duffs," he said, "had reigned before, 

In Scotland they would reign again, 
And kings and princes by the score 

Would gladly follow in their train. 

The Irvines, too, on Fortune's flood 

Would places reach of high degree, 
And one who boasted Irvine blood 

Would rule a realm across the sea. ' ' 

Now see what things have come to life 

Since we in sober truth can sing: 
The Earl of Fife has got a wife 

Whose father, once again is kinglf 

And in Usonia's mighty Lan' — 

What almost seems beyond belief — 
An offshoot of the Irvine clan 

Is honor 'd as the nation's chief! 



* "The wondrous Michael Scott," or Scot; — scholar, wizard and seer. 
He flourished 1214-1291. Being a Fife-shire Laird it was not un- 
natural that he should visit the Duffs at Castle Noth in ordinary 
course, and if he cared he could have transported himself at any time 
by a wave of his magic wand! 

f Ladies Alexandra Duff and Maud Duff, the daughters of the Duke 
and Duchess of Fife are to-day the nearest heirs to the British throne, 
although of course the children of the Prince of Wales are legally more 
direct in line. 

X This looks like the mystical name mentioned by The Warlock, and 
the following letter which has appeared in many newspapers and mag- 
zines may shed some light on the word: 

" USONIA." 

Lancasteb, Pa., 18th June, 1903. 
Dear Sir: — We of the United States, in justice to Canadians and Mexi- 
cans, have no right to use the title " Americans " when referring to mat- 
ters pertaining exclusively to ourselves. Every day is keenly felt the want 
of a correct name for our great, grand, glorious, independent country. 



112 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

MacDuff 's proud fort, that seemed so strong 
And once the Tap so finely crowned, 

Completely has been levelled long 
And hides its ruins in the ground. 

And who so blind as will not see, 
According to the ancient lore, 

Another castle now must be 
Erected soon in Auchindore!* 



I believe I am familiar with all the suggestions that have been made 
in this direction from time to time, and have been inclined to give my 
vote to the writer that first suggested " Usona," which is formed from 
the initials of " United States of North America." The assonance of 
" Usonans," however, has always been distasteful, and nothing better 
could be made from the first appelation strictly following the con- 
structive genius of our language. 

A much more euphonious word is " Usonia," and as it represents 
in a similar way the " United States of Northern Independent America " 
(a most important qualifying and accurately descriptive adjective being 
added) I am inclined to think it makes a perfect word and a dignified 
name to designate our land, our people and our nation — " Usonia," 
" Usonian " and " Usonians " sounding equally well. It has also to us 
Scots the added merit of making a good rhyme to Caledonia, and thus 
knitting more closely together both Usonians and Caledonians. 

May I ask what might be done to exploit such a suggestion, and how 
could such words be adopted and used popularly, literarily, officially, 
Usonially and universally? 

Respectfully yours, 

James D. Law. 

P. S. Since writing the foregoing I find that both Cowper and 
Campbell make use of the word " Ausonia " as a poetical name for — 
Italy! 

* President Roosevelt, as noted in " Amang my ain folk," fulfils the 
prophecy in America, and Premier Irvine, .who rules in Australia, even 
bears the Drum name. Washington Irving, whose sway extends to the 
whole English speaking race, is also of the same fine Scottish stock. 



THE EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BEN- 
NETT, FOUNDER OF ''THE NEW 
YORK HERALD." 

"Gang to Banff and bottle skate!" 

Used to be for lang the cry: 
" In the Enzie ingans ate " — 
" Ma drink when ye are dry!" 
Be it so; 'tis also true, 

Journalism's Laurel Wreath 
Was entwined upon the broo 
O' a chiel that cam' frae Keith. 

In August, 1902, it was my good fortune to attend the 
famous Keith Cattle Show, and on two other later oc- 
casions I visited the lovely little town on the banks of 
the Isla in Banffshire, Scotland.* 

Keith has long been famous— and for more than for 
"cairds." One of the most delightful books I know is 
"The Book of the Chronicles of Keith," which deals 
exhaustively with the whole parish. The general 
reader will recall that James Ferguson, the astronomer, 
was a Keith boy. In looking through the Institute I 
saw amongst other Ferguson relics a snuff-mull made 

* I remember well how confused I was over the railroad stations 
known as " Keith " and " Keith Town," which seem to exist only to 
annoy the stranger within the gates of the overgrown village, or to 
show the traveller that stubborn transportation companies can be more 
inexplicably vexatious than their most mystifying time-tables. In this 
respect Keith is not quite so bad as " Fochabers," which for pure mis- 
leading nomenclature holds the Scottish record; but if a wanderer 
should get off at " Keith-town " when his stopping-place was really 
" Keith," and if that pilgrim is burdened with a heavy parcel of books, 
as I happened to be when I made the mistake, — well, the load becomes 
too heavy to be borne in silence, the distance too great to be entirely 
overlooked, and one of the mildest wishes selected is that the idiotic 
officials who planned such misleading names might be sentenced to push a 
wheelbarrow from station to station in a stormy day to the accompani- 
ment of " Pig Murray's " orchestra, supposing his recently deceased 
" lordship " has left a fitting successor. 

113 



114 HEEE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

by the youthful star-gazer who is not without honor 
in his native vale, since he is, as the negroes would 
say: "truly for sure, done gone dead" and not likely 
to bob up again to ask for either bread or brown baw- 
bees. Here, in America, one of our most successful 
public entertainers rejoices in the name of Keith. The 
Keith system of vaudeville theatres may be seen flour- 
ishing in all our leading cities and at the present mo- 
ment a Keith Opera-house that will eclipse all rivals is 
nearing completion in London, across the sea. I have 
seen it stated that Mr. Keith's ancestors hailed from 
Keith, and that the successful and popular manager 
has more than once visited the district whose name 
he bears. 

But Scotsmen and Americans will be more interested 
in Keith for the reason that James Gordon Bennett, the 
founder of the New York Herald, was "raised" in this 
little Banffshire Highland hamlet. The exact place 
was then known as "The Old Town" and is now called 
"New-Mill." I say "raised" advisedly as he was 
actually born in the Enzie, another parish a few miles 
from Keith, but while yet an infant his parents moved 
to "The Auld Toon." There has been considerable 
controversy as to the precise date of Bennett's birth, 
but after figuring over the many dates and consulting 
the references to different epochs in his career I am 
satisfied he was born in 1795 and not in 1800, as many 
of his American biographers state. His parents were 
Eoman Catholics and yet they named their oldest boy 
"James Gordon" after the Rev. James Gordon, who 
was the Protestant spiritual director of the Presbytery 
of Strathbogie— the true "Gordon Land" so famed 
in song and story. As to the name Bennett, and the 
Scottish origin of the clan, J. G. B. himself is authority 
for the following : 



EAKLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 115 

"Every record of the Bennetts was lost in a great freshet, 
previous to the year of our Lord 896, when they were a 
little band of freebooters in Saxony. I have no doubt they 
robbed and plundered a good deal, and very likely hen- 
roosts, or anything that came in their way. They emigrated 
to France and, under the name of Benoit, lived in the Loire 
several hundred years. When William the Conqueror went 
to England they were always ready for a fight and crossed 
the seas. The Earl of Tankerville is a Bennett and sprang 
from the lucky side of the race. Another branch went to 
Scotland with an ancestor of the present Duke of Gordon 
(1836), and all, I believe, were robbers on a great scale. 
Latterly, however, they became Churchmen, but never 
abandoned the good old Catholic Church till I became grace- 
less enough to set up for myself, and slap the Pope and 
Bishop Dubois right and left. I have had bishops, priests, 
deacons, robbers and all sorts of people in my family; and 
what is more we were bright in ideas, and saucy enough in 
all conscience." 

James Gordon Bennett had two sisters, Margaret 
and Annie, and an only brother named Cosmo. Both 
boys were designed for the priesthood, but James es- 
caped this fate when about twenty years of age. Cos- 
mo stuck to the seminary, and according to his brother 
was sacrificed by the rigorous rules of the College of 
Angelites, dying when in his final term. This tragedy 
was greatly lamented by the journalist, who had ex- 
pected his talented brother to be his life-partner. The 
first school-master of the Bennetts was Donald Cam- 
eron, whose son, Dr. Cameron, also emigrated to Amer- 
ica and was for a long time located in Wilmington, 
Delaware.* 



* When I lived in Camden, N. J., Dr. Cameron visited me frequently, 
and from him I had lots of anecdotes of James Gordon Bennett whom 
he knew well, and with whom he kept up a correspondence until 
Bennett died. He told me, as a boy, he had bought many a biscuit 
from Bennett's mother, whose maiden name was Janet Reid. Dr. 
Cameron's son Gilbert is the present esteemed representative of Dun & 
Co. in Providence, R. I. 



116 HEBE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

After leaving Cameron's village school Bennett was 
sent to Aberdeen, where, at the Catholic Seminary, he 
received a good classical education. In after years he 
often referred to the happy days when he studied 
Virgil in the morning, played ball in the afternoon and 
sported in the Dee or Don in the gloaming under the 
shadow of "the braw braif toun of Bon- Accord," the 
Silver City by the Northern Sea. He was a voracious 
reader, and has recorded that he had a peculiar satis- 
faction in being one of a literary club that met in the 
very room of the grammar school where the youthful 
Byron only a few years previously had conned his 
tasks. Indeed, Byron's influence on him was strong 
and lasting, morally as well as mentally. He was also 
a great admirer of Walter Scott, whose novels were 
then appearing. One of the results of his reading was 
an impulse to visit the scenes of the tales, histories and 
poems that he perused, and so well did he carry out 
his intentions in this direction that before he attained 
his majority he had made a pilgrimage to all the most 
noted literary shrines of Scotland. As an example he 
gives an entertaining account of a visit he paid to Glas- 
gow shortly after the publication of "Rob Roy." He 
sauntered into the Saut Market and began identifying 
the people he saw with the characters in Scott's im- 
mortal work. When his eye lighted on a merchant that 
reminded him of "Bailie Nicol Jarvie" Bennett ex- 
claimed: "Oh, that's him outright!" The Glasgow- 
wegian, greatly astonished, blurted out: "Laddie, are 
you mad?— You look scared!" and Bennett, recalled 
to consciousness, could only stammer: "I thocht I 
saw a frien' o' mine!" He greatly enjoyed himself in 
Glasgow, visiting the Broomielaw, Kelvin Grove, the 
theatre, Dr. Chalmers's Kirk and other places of in- 
terest; "leaving the city," as he tells us, "on the 
fourth day, with tears in my eyes, partly because I had 
seen a black-eyed girl too many." 



EAELY LIFE OF JAMES GOKDON BENNETT. 117 

The first employment he got was as an apprentice to 
a Mr. Stronach, draper, in Keith within a mile of his 
birthplace. Before completing his indenture Stronach 
failed, and young Bennett, with his uncle, Cosmo Eeid, 
set up business as drapers in Aberdeen. They could 
not make it go and soon disposed of it. At this time 
the emigration fever was raging in the north of Scot- 
land and people by thousands were flocking to the New 
World, the bulk of the Aberdonians to Canada and the 
Northern States. Bennett was an intense admirer of 
Benjamin Franklin, and had long cherished the desire 
to visit his birthplace and other cities made famous by 
his genius. One day in 1819 on the streets of Aberdeen 
he met a Keith friend, who said: "Bennett, I'm going 
to America, on April 6th,' ' and further talk developed 
the fact that his friend was to sail for Halifax, Nova 
Scotia. Bennett says he mused a little, and then im- 
pulsively declared: " Wilson, my dear fellow, I'll go 
with you. I want to see the place where Franklin was 
born. Have you read his ' Life "? " And go he did, on 
this impulsive promise, using neither judgment nor 
caution in his decision. He did not even go to Keith 
to say farewell to the family circle. He carried only 
$25.00 with him, after paying his fare. Was there ever 
a clearer case of a man being hurried to his destiny? 
It took him many years and cost him innumerable fail- 
ures before he reached success in the land of his adop- 
tion, but he had not lived in the Granite City for 
nothing, and in later life was able to endure poundings 
and chisellings that would have destroyed any score of 
ordinary men. 

He first found a job as a teacher of bookkeeping in 
Halifax, but it was too slow a calling for his ambi- 
tion, and, when he felt called upon to return school-fees 
to needy widows with stupid sons, he left all his pupils 
behind him and crossed into the territory of Uncle 



118 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Sam. He soon made his way to Portland, Maine, and 
it was then an easy step to reach Boston, the city of his 
demigod Franklin. The "Hub," with its familiar 
names, seemed like a second home to him. He drew 
parallels between it and Edinburgh; he visited every 
spot sacred to liberty and independence; and he felt 
at last that he was on the high road to fortune. But 
it is one thing to recognize weel-kent places, and alto- 
gether different to meet no weel-kent faces, more espe- 
cially when one is without money and with no employ- 
ment. Very soon Bennett found himself penniless— 
indeed for two days and nights he wandered through 
Boston without having eaten a morsel of food. He 
was willing to work, but no work was forthcoming. 
In the crisis of his despair he found a shilling on Bos- 
ton Common and it brought him good luck. He secured 
a position as clerk or salesman with a Mr. Wells, a 
countryman of his own, formerly a friend and pupil of 
Dr. Priestley, and then a member of the firm of Wells 
& Lilly, leading printers and book-makers of that period. 
By and by he was transferred to the proof reader's 
desk. When in Boston he was studious and well be- 
haved, his only weakness being a propensity for rhym- 
ing. He wished to describe Boston after the manner of 
Byron's "Childe Harold," and some of Bennett's verses 
are quite commendable. He also gave much of his 
time and thought to the study of newspapers, noting the 
various types, and the causes of their failure or success. 
He was particularly enamored of the independent brand 
of journalism introduced by Buckingham of The New 
England Galaxy, and in after years modelled his own 
policy largely from Buckingham 's style. When he felt 
that Boston had given him all he could profitably absorb 
he struck out for New York City and reached the Me- 
tropolis of the Western Hemisphere early in 1822. His 
first work seems to have been connected with the press, 



EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 119 

but shortly after his arrival he accepted a position as 
special reporter for the Charleston Courier, and took up 
his residence in Sonth Carolina, where he remained 
for the next two years. He wrote prose and verse for 
this journal, translated articles from the Spanish 
papers received via Havana and from his employer's 
enterprise in boarding vessels far at sea for news 
took another valuable lesson in journalism that he 
afterwards acted upon with such brilliant results when 
he became his own master. It also seems as if he was 
providentially sent South, to live in a slave-holding 
State, so that when the proper time came he could 
write more intelligently on the important question that 
had its final settlement in the great Civil War. 

In 1824 he was back in New York. Contrary to our 
expectation he did not re-engage in journalism, but is- 
sued instead a prospectus for a commercial school with 
himself as sole staff and principal! In his advertise- 
ment he says: "Encouraged by several gentlemen," 
he "intends opening in Ann, near Nassau Street, an 
English classical and mathematical school. " His 
school was to be conducted "according to the inductive 
method of instruction." New York references were 
given, and in a postscript it was noted that l ' application 
may be made to J. G. B. at 148 Fulton Street." The 
school was a failure, if it ever was started. Competi- 
tion in that line was keen, and it is surmised that Ben- 
nett did not secure any pupils.* It was about this time 
that he took to lecturing, holding forth on political 
economy in the vestry of the old Dutch Church in Ann 
Street. But he soon drifted into steady employment 
on the press. He received small pay, and worked for 
many different proprietors. In 1825 he plucked up 
courage enough to own a paper himself, and bought 
The Neiv York Courier from a Mr. Tryon, paying for it 

* There was even another " James Bennett " in the same field. 



120 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

with notes. When this venture failed Bennett returned 
the plant to Tryon, and received back his bills! He 
then identified himself with the National Advocate. 
He was a first-class and a fearless reporter, and could 
take down a speech verbatim, which was not a common 
accomplishment in those days. In 1826 he had become 
so well known to the newspaper men of New York that 
they used him as a target for many shafts inspired by 
envy and jealousy, making much of the fact that he 
was a foreigner. It is worth noting that Bennett about 
this time introduced Martin Van Buren as a prominent 
man for elevation in the Democratic party, and that 
the young Scotchman was also a recognized member of 
Tammany Hall !* Among other employments of "good 
society, ' ' duelling was quite popular, but Bennett never 
came nearer to such a fight than to write a description 
of it. In 1827 he was in Washington as special repre- 
sentative for the Enquirer. He worked harder even 
than usual and his letters make "mighty interesting 
reading. ' ' Amongst personal items we find that he was 
very fond of tea, and also that his eyes failed him from 
intense application night and day. Ever after he was 
squint-eyed, but he consoled himself with the reflection 
that it was better than being squint-hearted, like so 
many of his opponents and enemies. One of his most 
entertaining epistles is devoted to the handwriting and 
spelling of eminent men, as an offset to the charge that 
his hero, General Jackson, was a sinner in that respect. 
Bennett places Burke, Pope, Addison, Jefferson, Ca- 
nova, Sir Christopher Wren, Elbridge Gerry and De 
Witt Clinton in the same category, and quotes ample 
proof for his assertions. It is at least testimony to his 
tastes and his industry. In due time he had the satis- 
faction of seeing Jackson inaugurated as President. 

* Years afterwards, in one of his famous letters, he said he picked 
up his wonderful stock of modesty by frequenting Tammany Hall when 
he was a young man ! ! 



EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 121 

For the next few years Bennett was busy as a politi- 
cian and as a journalist, mostly attached to the amal- 
gamated Courier and Enquirer. He interviewed every- 
body worth interviewing from the President down, and 
was sent on particular missions as a "special corre- 
spondent" pretty much like Julian Hawthorne in our 
own day, even making a careful and exhaustive study 
of exciting murder cases, such as the murder of White 
of Salem by the Crowninshields. It was during this 
trial that Bennett, in answer to the criticism of a judge, 
declared the press to be "the living jury of a nation." 
Everything was grist to his mill. When debarred from 
writing reports of a trial he wrote articles descriptive 
of the town, its people and its trade. When on vaca- 
tions he penned letters dealing with the scenery or the 
historical associations of the places he visited. In na- 
tional affairs he was equally at home, discussing 
" Bolivar" or the "Banks," and "anti-Masonry" or 
"The Duties of Editors." 

On October 29, 1832, he issued the first number of the 
New York Globe, being its sole proprietor as well as 
editor. It was the beginning of cheap political papers 
and sold for two cents a copy. The venture lasted just 
a month, which Bennett declared was the full length 
of time he had allotted to the experiment. During his 
busiest days he had been a prolific contributor to the 
Mirror and other literary journals, and his work there 
added to his fame and to his friends. His story of 
"Two Yards of Jaconet— or a Husband" is a good 
example of his lighter vein at this time. 

After closing out the Globe, Bennett went to Philadel- 
phia and bought an interest in The Pennsylvanian. He 
soon began to enliven its columns with strictures on 
Wall St., New York, and this brought upon his head 
the antagonism of nearly all the New York City papers 
and the moneyed ring, as well as the enmity of many of 



122 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

his former political associates.* By and by he found 
himself in need of $2,500 to push his paper, and know- 
ing how useful he had been to his party he made appli- 
cation amongst its leaders for such a loan. They one 
and all refused it, giving many imaginary excuses for 
declining to help, finally combining against him "as 
a dangerous man," and in the end attempted to read 
him out of the party. He felt their ingratitude keenly 
at the time, but he secured the loan from non-political 
friends. The real trouble with Bennett was that he 
would not be a pliant tool for any party, but insisted 
at all times on maintaining his independence. Of course 
he could not indefinitely continue a fight against such 
powers and remain a political partizan writer, so at 
a considerable loss he sold out his interest in The 
Pennsylvanian and went back to New York, a sadder 
and a wiser man. The result was really a compliment 
to him as a man and a citizen. 

At this period the penny press in New York was 
exciting much attention, and Bennett, with his mind 
now fully made up to try independent journalism was 
eager to make a connection with one of the successful 
journals. He had no money, he was now in his fortieth 
year, and he felt it was time to secure somewhere a 
more permanent foothold. All his hard work up to 
this time had seemingly ended in failure, since he was 
now "a statesman out of a job," once more walking 
the streets of New York without a penny and without a 
position. He contributed, it is true, some letters to the 
Philadelphia Enquirer, but this employment was neither 
continuous nor very remunerative. Day & Wisner were 
making a great success of the New York Sun, selling it 
at a cent a copy, and Bennett tried hard to make a con- 
nection with them, but without avail. In vain he urged 

* He was the first journalist to write a regular " money article," a 
feature which has since been copied by every newspaper in every land. 



EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 123 

that he had new and valuable plans for the increased 
circulation of their paper. Day, at times, gave him some 
encouragement, but Wisner would not listen to any 
addition to their staff. At last, after repeated rebuffs, 
he formed a connection with Anderson & Smith, 
printers, and on the 6th of May, 1835, launched The 
New York Herald from the cellar floor of No. 20 Wall 
Street. His sheet was a small one and published at 
one cent, Bennett himself being news-gatherer, editor, 
distributor, book-keeper and office boy. It is said that 
his first counter was a board supported on two empty 
barrels and the well-known picture of him sitting in 
his shirt sleeves, writing editorials with his stack of 
papers beside him, is not a creation of the artist's 
fancy, but represented the cold, bare truth. Such, in- 
deed, was the lowly beginning of the mighty journal 
that for so long reigned as the king of newspapers, and 
is yet considered second to none in its influence and 
its net daily revenue. At last the stride had been made 
from New-Mill, Keith, to New York, U. S. A., in a 
manner satisfactory to the indomitable, independent 
and invincible Scotsman; now he had put his foot 
down, not to be lifted by any person or party, and a 
new era had commenced for the press of America. 

When I was in Keith, as mentioned at the beginning 
of this article, I was introduced to a man who claimed 
to have set up type on the first issue of the New York 
Herald! His story was accepted as gospel by the na- 
tives, and he had surrounded himself with quite a halo 
of fame from this imaginary glory. He appeared to 
be about sixty-five years of age, so his claim was out 
of the question, and the nearest approach to it was that 
he had perhaps once had a position on the Herald or 
had known James Gordon Bennett in New York, or 
had met him on one of his visits to his native land, after 
the Herald was an established success. 



124 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

At the outset the Herald was quite commonplace, and 
displayed little of its editor's peculiar individualism 
that was so much in evidence during his palmiest days. 
The printers lost the trade of rival newspapers, and 
as Bennett was only on trial, and not making the great 
success immediately anticipated Anderson & Smith be- 
came restless. But Bennett had them bound hand and 
foot and they had to endure him. They were both in 
poor health, which added to their miseries, and when a 
big fire came along and burned them out and The 
Herald with them, they were satisfied to collect their 
insurance and rest from their labors. Bennett 's paper 
was actually snuffed out for a short time, but with 
$500 that had fallen to his share as the proceeds of his 
fire policy he recommenced business, this time without 
any financially interested partner and with hardly a 
friend to cheer him. He was thirsting for pecuniary 
success as well as burning with a desire to become a 
journalistic power in the New World. He had seen 
many brilliant writers left to decay by those who could 
have helped them; he had himself breakfasted with 
neglect, dined with ingratitude and supped with injus- 
tice ; and he felt that he must strike out on new lines, or 
his hopes and his ambitions would soon wither and 
waste away. Respectable mediocrity plus independent 
writing would only end in starvation, and he had re- 
solved to die rather than again to ally himself with any 
political party. With very limited means he could not 
forestall his contemporaries by purchasing costly news. 
He had plenty of plans for enriching his paper when he 
himself became rich, but meanwhile he must make some- 
thing out of nothing, he must keep his old subscribers 
and constantly add to his circle of readers. It was a 
feat worthy of a Cagliostro, and in accomplishing it 
James Gordon Bennett proved himself to be a true 
Wizard of the North. He called to his aid satire and 



EAELY LIFE OP JAMES GOKDON BENNETT. 125 

sensationalism, and helped by them and their attendant 
sprites he triumphed over all his difficulties. Of course 
he shocked New York, but New York bought Heralds 
and that was all he cared for at that time. Imaginary 
news, so-called intercepted letters, mythical speeches in 
Congress, and even manufactured Presidential mes- 
sages were among his ordinary bills of fare. He also 
made a stronger specialty of his money articles and did 
not spare the speculators of Wall Street, He waged war 
against all his rivals of the press and courted any kind 
of comment and criticism, evidently believing with 
Burns that the more he was talked about the better he 
would be known. He accomplished his desires in mak- 
ing his paper different from all others in the field. With 
his hand against every man and every man's hand 
against him it was only natural that sooner or later 
Bennett should have a personal encounter with some of 
his rivals. In the second year of The Herald's exis- 
tence he was twice assaulted— once in his office by an 
irate speculator and the second time in Wall Street by 
Mr. Webb, a former partner connected with the Courier 
and Enquirer. Webb knocked Bennett down and then 
hit him with a stick. Next morning the Herald said : 

"I have to apologize to my kind readers to-day for the want 
of my usual life. ' ' Bennett then told of how his assailant, ' ' by 
going up behind me, cut a slash in my head about one and a 
half inch in length, and through the integuments of the skull. 
The fellow, no doubt, wanted to let out the never-failing supply 
of good humor and wit which has created such a reputation 
for the Herald, and appropriate the contents to supply the 
emptiness of his own thick skull" and so forth, concluding: 
"My ideas, in a few days, will flow as freshly as ever, and 
he will find it so to his cost." 

This promise was kept to the letter. The circulation 
of the Herald, containing an account of the fracas, was 
nine thousand copies. Bennett was climbing up! 
10 



126 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Some interesting autobiographical tit-bits appeared in 
bis editorial articles at this period, and I think the fol- 
lowing is entitled to quotation : 

"Possessing personal industry and indefatigability, with 
some talent, for which I am thankful to God Almighty, no 
one in this city can say aught against my private character. 
I can venture to say that in all the relations of life it is 
without a stain." 

Even his bitterest enemies, when pressed for honest 
answer, could not gainsay Bennett's sweeping claim. 
For years his paper, however, was nothing but a sheet 
of gossip, scandal, sensationalism, spice and of ephe- 
meral interest, but in justification of this the condition 
of the Herald's contemporaries has to be considered. 
Greely on the Tribune was financially crucified almost 
daily, and his scholarly writings gained little attention. 
Legget 's high-toned Plain Dealer never caused a ripple 
and if it had died would not have been missed. The 
Expositor, Dispatch, Tatler, and Evening Signal were 
only born to expire. Of all rivals the Sun alone showed 
any vigorous life. But by his sauce and independence 
Bennett actually helped the papers that were able to 
exist and in due time they too profited pecuniarily. He 
had to face many charges including that of "black- 
mail, ' ' and a manufactured story of how he defended a 
man charged with murder, for the sum of thirteen 
thousand dollars, for many years was circulated against 
him. Mr. Webb again attacked Bennett in Wall Street 
as he was collecting financial news and gossip for The 
Herald, with the following net result : 

"My damage," wrote Bennett, "is a scratch, about three 
quarters of an inch in length, on the third finger of the left 
hand, which I received from the iron railing I was forced 
against, and three buttons torn from my vest, which any tailor 
will reinstate for a sixpence. "Webb's loss is a rent from top 
to bottom of a very beautiful black coat, which cost the 



EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 127 

ruffian $40.00, and a blow in the face, which may have knocked 
down his throat some of his infernal teeth for anything I 
know. Balance in my favor $39.94." 

This incident swelled the city circulation of the 
Herald still more, and even in the country districts 
readers were beginning to take more interest in James 
Gordon Bennett. He never missed a chance to exploit 
The Herald and to advertise himself. Two of his coun- 
trymen wrote him, complaining of his style of doing 
business and begging him for the honor of his native 
land to change his course. His answer was a stinger, 
but both sensible and defensible, exhibiting humor, 
satire, philosophy, eloquence and real character. The 
only item that I care to cull from that letter at present 
is his reference to Keith. He says : 

"I was educated in Scotland, a Roman Catholic, in all its 
exclusiveness, in all its rules, in all its penances, and yet at 
the first glimmerings of reason, at the age of fourteen, I 
began to doubt some of the dogmas of the Church, to the 
great annoyance of father, mother and the parish priest. 
This spirit of mental independence sprung up, it is true, 
in Scotland ; but was it the soil, the climate, the blue hills, the 
cloudless skies, the fragrant summer heath, that produced 
it? No such thing! It was the work of that Being who 
first gave to all the spark of Celestial Fire." 

Bennett was both an optimist and a fatalist. He be- 
lieved in eternal progress and improvement, and he also 
felt confident that he was born to luck, that he personally 
led a charmed life, and that Providence continually 
watched over him. He often regretted that he had to 
play mountebank and don cap and bells to attract atten- 
tion, but felt that the end justified the means. 

On the 6th of April, 1836, The Herald was moved 
from Broadway to Clinton Hall Building, enlarged in 
size and the price raised to two cents a copy. Progress 
up to date is best given in Bennett's own words near 
the close of 1836: 



128 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"The surprising success of The Herald has astonished 
myself. I began on $500, was twice burned out, once had my 
office robbed, have been opposed and calumniated by the 
whole newspaper press, ridiculed, condemned, threatened, yet 
here I am, at the end of fifteen months, with an establishment, 
the materials of which are nearly worth five thousand dollars, 
nearly all paid for, and a prospect of making the Herald 
yield in two years a revenue of at least thirty thousand 
dollars a year. ' ' 

It is not my intention to follow Bennett's journalistic 
career farther in this article, except to note that his suc- 
cess continued and increased with every year. As he 
became stronger financially he surrounded himself with 
able assistants and introduced many features of real 
and permanent value to the Herald and to the public 
.at large. His newspaper became a national power and 
provided for him a royal revenue. Whether or not he 
kept up a close connection with Keith, during the years 
of his trials and struggles cannot now be told, but it is 
pleasing to know that as soon as he felt he was safe in 
doing so he paid a visit to his old home. 

Mr. James Lawrence, of Keith, one of the ablest and 
most enthusiastic of local historians, wrote an account 
of Bennett's first trip back, and a copy of this valu- 
able article I received when in Lumsden from Mr. 
James Ironside, retired merchant there, himself a native 
of Keith and thoroughly posted in the history of Strath- 
isla and the neighboring district. Since then I have 
looked into the matter and found a few more details that 
are worth reproducing and incorporating with Mr. 
Lawrence's sketch which first appeared in The Aber- 
deen Evening Gazette. It was not inappropriate to 
select this paper, seeing it is the afternoon edition of 
The Aberdeen Free Press that some time ago absorbed 
The Aberdeen Herald, and still uses that title in its 
weekly issues. In Bennett's time the Aberdeen Herald 



EAELY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 129 

was a great literary power, and I have always thought 
that he had it in mind when he selected the name for 
his own successful venture. I have even seen it stated 
that he made personal contributions to the columns of 
the Aberdeen Herald, but have no means of confirming 
or of verifying this. 

It was in 1838 that Bennett made his first return 
voyage to Scotland. Before leaving he sold off his 
superfluous furniture, books, etc., which found ready 
purchasers among his friends and admirers, who were 
in this way glad to secure personal souvenirs of their 
favorite journalist. He reached Falmouth, England, on 
the 19th of May, and remained in the South until the 
beginning of July, meantime attending the Coronation 
of Queen Victoria, and visiting the leading editors in 
London. On the 6th of July he was in Edinburgh, and 
musing there on the Calton Hill he has recorded that 
so strong were his emotions in reviewing his past life 
that he figuratively and literally then and there was 
"born again," and so forever saved his soul! He saw 
all the prominent sights of "Auld Reekie," and passed 
on to Aberdeen by the mail-coach, for northern rail- 
roads were not then in existence. His impatience kept 
growing as he came nearer home, and the Granite City 
could not hold him with Keith only forty-five miles 
away. Early in the morning of July 10 he took an out- 
side seat in the ' ' Royal Mail ' ' for the Highlands, and in 
due time was set down at the door of "The Gordon 
Arms ' ' in his beloved Keith. He was a boy again, and 
his emotions almost overwhelmed him, so instead of 
hastening at once to the ' ' Auld Toun ' ' he took luncheon 
at the hotel and nerved himself for the coming ordeal. In 
the afternoon he set out on foot to see the old home. 
He has himself described that walk, the places he passed 
and the changes he noted since he was a boy. He tells 
us that even the grass and white clover sent forth an 



130 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

odor like wild honey, sweet and delicious. As lie neared 
New-Mill he met a lassie on the road, and pointing to 
his birthplace, he asked its name. "It's the Auld 
Toon, ' ' she said. The reply and the accent pleased him 
and he spoke again: "What's the matter with your foot, 
my girl?" "I've a sair tae." Ah, here was the Doric 
at last— the genuine Stra'-Isla article, and it added to 
his pleasure to give the lassie a coin, and say: "Here 
is something to heal it. ' ' The pilgrim was now nearing 
the holy of holies. He entered the house on the hill and 
stood before his aunt. She did not recognize him, and 
her perplexity made him smile. Then she knew him at 
once ! ' ' God bless me ! I never wad hae kent ye, but 
for your laugh ! ' ' He sat down and could not speak for 
some time. Then: "How stout you have got, aunty! — 
but where is my mother, and my sisters f ' ' Before re- 
plies could be given his mother, followed by his two 
sisters, came in from their own residence close by. It 
had been a long separation till then. The vicissitudes 
of life had been many, but there was an age of joy in 
that moment. His mother seized him tenderly by both 
hands, looked into his face, kissed him and fell upon his 
neck, weeping like a child. He was distressed to see 
how old his mother looked, but she reminded him it was 
twenty-three years since they had met ; in that time his 
father and brother had died, and that, she thought, 
was sufficient to make her look old. The reference to 
his brother Cosmo moved him terribly. Later on he 
was shown Cosmo's letters and as he read them he 
more and more bemoaned the untimely ending of so 
brilliant a life. He blamed the Catholic Church for 
Cosmo's death and vowed that she would suffer for it, 
but fearing that his mother, who was a devout Catholic, 
might misunderstand him he soon changed the subject. 
He enjoyed every minute of his stay at New-Mill, and 
devoted the time to talks with his relatives and visits to 



a 



EARLY LIFE OF JAMES GORDON BENNETT. 131 

all the prominent places in the neighborhood. When 
the day came to say good-bye he promised to return next 
summer and stay longer. Mr. Lawrence is of the opin- 
ion that Mr. Bennett never again found time to revisit 
the old home, but without doubt he was there again in 
1843, and to the pleasure of his mother and other rela- 
tives he was accompanied by his wife and their infant 
son, James Gordon Bennett, Jr. From a contemporary 
account of this visit the following paragraph is ex- 
tracted : 

"When James Gordon Bennett was at Keith and New- 
Mill in 1838 he had promised to bring a bride with him on 
his next visit, and he kept his word in that particular faith- 
fully. What additional arrangements he made for the 
happiness of the family there it is not material here to dis- 
close, but the same prudent yet generous regard for his 
mother and sisters which ever had characterized him was 
fully appreciated by their hearts, which sympathized most 
deeply in all his happiness and in all his sorrows. He had 
become more serious and less impulsive, as he perceived the 
important relations existing between him and his offspring, 
since he last heard the pungent witicisms of Margaret, or 
contemplated the soberer mood of Annie, or listened to the 
counsels of his mother. Besides, the strides he himself 
had made in the profession to which he had devoted his life 
were such that he could no longer deem his journal as any- 
thing less than an engine of vast power. In 1838 he was 
successful — but he was not so firmly established that caprice 
or competition might not blight his hopes. In 1843 he was 
as secure as his ambition could desire, — and being a prom- 
inent man throughout the chief nations of the earth he could 
not feel less than the natural anxiety of mind which is the 
thorny crown of greatness— that constant watchfulness to 
maintain the port and bearing of a man whose object is above 
the suggestions of mere selfishness."* 



* It is also positively known that Bennett was at New-Mill and 
Keith in 1847, and probably once or twice after that date. 



132 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Bennett's mother and sisters sleep with their kindred 
In the auld kirkyard of Keith. He himself has put it on 
record that he had only two homes and two places to 
which his heart was bound— New York and New-Mill — 
the one the scene of his manhood, the other of his 
childhood. He died in June, 1872, considerably over the 
three score years and ten, and with him was severed 
the last link that united the Bennett's of Keith with 
the Bennetts of Columbia. 

It was long a question whether James Gordon Ben- 
nett was not more notorious than famous, but in his 
later years his leading position was almost universally 
conceded. This sketch may be fittingly concluded by 
his own words, out of his early aspiration weaving his 
final epitaph: 

"My ambition is to make the newspaper press the great 
organ and pivot of government, society, commerce, finance, 
religion, and all human civilization. I want to leave be- 
hind me no castles, no granite hotels, no monuments of mar- 
ble, no statues of bronze, no pyramids of brick — simply a 
name. The name of 

James Gordon Bennett, 

as one of the benefactors of the human race will satisfy every 
desire and every hope."* 

* When a young man, the veteran manufacturer and eminent pub- 
licist, Mr. A. B. Farquhar, of York, Pa., interviewed Bennett on 
" Success in Life," and has given the following entertaining account 
of it : " About 7 a. m. I called at the office of the ' Herald,' and saw 
Mr. Bennett. I shall never forget that interview. Looking at me 
intently for a moment he said : ' Have you had your breakfast ?' My 
reply was negative. He answered, ' I thought as much. No one 
should go out before breakfast. He cannot do himself justice on an 
empty stomach. Go across to the Astor House and get yourself a 
good breakfast, and when you come back I will talk to you.' I won- 
deringly followed his advice. When I returned he said : ' Now you look 
better. I am a very busy man. If you are not you ought to be, and 
my advice will be short. The most important thing in this world is to 
take care of your health. You can store up your health as you do a 
bank account. If you have got health you can do far more work 
and do it better than your neighbor without health. I owe my success 
to my good health more than anything else.' " 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 

There's something in the chime o' rhyme 

That never can be press'd frae prose: 
The topic mayna be sublime, 

The lines be rough frae start to close, 
But Rhyme has something a' the time 

That rhyme-less writin' never shows: 
There's something in the chime o' Rime 

That never can be pressed frae prose. 

To simply name them all would take many closely 
printed columns. To give a single paragraph to each of 
the ones I love would occupy every page of this book. 
To quote but one complete poem from the authors I 
have selected to chat about would far overstep the limits 
at my disposal. Besides, in my opinion, the poetical 
free sample business has for too long been entirely 
overdone. I do not believe in plundering poor bards 
of their choicest treasures; so I say to every reader: 
' ' Buy their books, and read them, ' ' for in no other way 
can you make a fair estimate of their verse and their 
versatility. The following notes refer only to Doric 
poets I have met or corresponded with and do not in- 
clude authors like Alfred Austin, the present British 
Poet-Laureate, or Lloyd Mifflin, Horace L. Traubel, 
Edwin Markham and James Whitcomb Riley, in the 
front rank of American singers, or any others that I 
know who write only in English. 

The first Scottish poet I remember seeing (to know 
as such) was a "poetess"— Rachel Stuart MacPher- 
son by name, a native and resident of Rhynie, four 
miles from my own birthplace. I recall yet with 
what awe I looked at her, as she passed through our 
village. For some time I had been familiar with her 
writings, which were then regularly appearing in the 

133' 



134 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

local newspapers. She was about eight years older than 
myself— then entering my teens— and the gulf was too 
great for me to span without an introduction. But 
later on I met her once or twice at social gatherings, and 
found her to be bright and jolly. She has written some 
excellent poems both in the dialect and in common Eng- 
lish and has published a volume "By Bogie's Banks 
and Deveronside. ' ' It took me just a decade to secure 
a copy and I value it accordingly. She married a sol- 
dier, and as Mrs. Robertson, has been a happy wife and 
mother for many years. Her writings are sweet, whole- 
some and richly tinged with local color, but her meas- 
ures are not so varied as one could wish. This is all 
the more to be regretted, as she has shown that she 
can handle creditably any style of stanza that she may 
select. 

My first schoolmaster, Harry Gatjld, of Lumsden, 
was a poet, and published his "Bookie" in 1828. I 
picked up a copy of it some years ago, and prize it 
highly, as it is indeed rare. When I went to his school, 
and carried under my arm my daily fuel tribute of one 
peat, I never imagined the old man was a real, "truly- 
f or-sure ' ' author. He was very kind to me and allowed 
me to sit on the "ase-backet" (ash-receiver) by the fire 
instead of putting me on one of the ordinary school 
forms. Some good stories are told about Harry. In 
early life he was a watchmaker, and having once sold a 
seven-feet, eight-day clock, at his shop in Rhynie to a 
purchaser in Tomintoul, over thirty miles distant, Harry 
delivered the clock on a wheelbarrow which he "rowed" 
himself, all the way over hill and dale. "When post- 
master at Lumsden he once sealed the mail bag for 
Aberdeen but omitted to put in the letters, and did not 
notice his mistake until the bus or mail gig was out of 
sight. There was no hope for it but to follow, which 
he did on foot; and by taking a near cut over the hills 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 135 

he reached the Granite City ahead of the coach, and 
before the letters were missed. As he had to walk 
home again he actually tramped nearly seventy miles 
to rectify his mistake, but if seven hundred had been 
necessary Harry would have accomplished the job in 
some way. Many of his sayings had great vogue in the 
district around Auchindoir. To an acquaintance who 
had expressed himself rather freely old Harry pomp- 
ously declared after the style of Dr. Johnson: "Sir, 
I admire your candor, but confound your impudence."* 
Burns, Scott and Byron were Harry's favorite authors, 
and to hear him recite ' ' Tarn o ' Shanter ' ' was a never- 
to-be-forgotten treat. His own verse contains some 
good things, but very little in the dialect unfortunately, 
and also too few items relating to local matters. In- 
stead of abstruse poems on such topics as "Creation," 
"Life," "Truth" and "The Soul," if he had only 
given us some character sketches of the parish notables 
and worthies of his time, how much more highly prized 
his books would now be ! But we are thankful for what 
we have got, and have enjoyed many a quiet smile over 
some of Harry 's amusing lines although his volume was 
printed nearly eighty years ago, and the green grass 
has been waving over the bard in Auchindoir kirkyard 
for almost the third of a century. 

What "People's Journal" reader of the early 
"Eighties" does not remember "Poute"? His real 
name was Alexr. Burgess, and he actually lived at 
" Coup-my-horn, " near Leven, Fifeshire. He was a 
dancing master, and among other accomplishments 
could trip the Highland fling, play "The Old Hundred" 
on the violin with his hands behind his back, and recite 

* It reminds one of Hon. John S. Wise's story of the Indian who 
lassoed the locomotive out West. As the engineer saw the poor red man 
whirled through space at the rate of sixty miles an hour, fast to his own 
lasso he said : " Well, Mr. Lo, I admire your pluck, but damn your 
judgment." 



136 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

the One hundred and nineteenth Psalm at one and the 
same time! "Poute" had a funny phonetic way of 
spelling long before the days of "Josh Billings" and 
"Artemus Ward," and beneath this quaint device he 
has recorded many good verses, excelling in the comic 
and in the grotesque. He was the first poet of impor- 
tance to favor me with an autographic letter. In his old 
age the bard became melancholy and while deranged 
ended his life by drowning himself. I place his book 
with my rarest Doric treasures. 

Among the big guns of the " People's Friend" when 
I was at school Alexr. G. Murdoch, Eobert Ford and 
Alexander Anderson were the laurell'd three. The 
first-named died before reaching his prime. I hardly 
expected then ever to meet any of the other two; but 
since residing in America have been honored with the 
correspondence of both, and had the pleasure of meeting 
them in 1902. 

Eobekt Ford is a native of Perthshire, but has spent 
his best days in Glasgow, and he must now be past the 
half century mark. He holds a responsible commercial 
position, and is a keen, careful, correct business man, 
never to be suspected of dallying with the Muses, if 
one were only to meet him in the counting-house. Yet 
what an amount of literary work he has done— prose 
and poetry— as author, as editor and as critic! His 
books have a large sale, and are worthy of it. His own 
poems are wholesome, graphic, full of life, and charged 
with light. Occasionally a little roughness may be 
noted, but it is the exuberance of strength rather than 
the result of carelessness. He can handle all the keys 
— pathos, fun and irony predominating. In ballads, 
songs and character sketches he has produced many 
masterpieces. I call him a real lark, or better still a 
Scotch laverock, and higher praise than that he need not 
seek. He has been a widower for a long time, and his 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 137 

oldest daughter manages his household affairs. I shall 
ever recall with delight the happy evening I spent at 
his cosy home. He is a fine conversationalist, as 
artist at telling a joke, and one of the few poets I ever 
heard that can creditably read their own productions. 
It is a safe rule to get any one but the author to read 
his poetry. As might be expected Ford has a fine li- 
brary, and a great fund of out-of-the-way stories about 
prominent literary men. Some of his Burnsiana was a 
revelation to me, and its pedigree was straight. 

Alexander Anderson is known to the world as the 
author of "Cuddle Doon"— a simple ballad of bairn- 
hood that has done more to make him known than all 
his more ambitious work. For Anderson is a high- 
grade poet, writing excellent English, and successfully 
treating the loftiest themes in that language, as well as 
turning out his little lyrical Scottish gems. He con- 
fesses himself that the popular verdict surprises him. 
He wrote "Cuddle Doon" to the music of the pick and 
shovel, while employed as a surfaceman or laborer on 
the railroad. It jumped into instant fame, circled the 
world, and has never been surpassed in our time as a 
nursery lyric. Would you have thought, after all this, 
of Anderson being a bachelor 1 It is true, nevertheless ; 
and, I fear, a hopeless case. He is getting up in years 
now and beginning to show them. Long ago he left 
railroading but it left with him some legacies such as 
rheumatism that cannot be shaken off, even in his pres- 
ent snug berth at the Edinburgh University Library. 
Anderson is a most modest man, and as shy as James 
M. Barrie. The poet has often been proffered the seat 
of honor at concerts, banquets and lectures, but he would 
sooner hide below the table than take the presiding 
officer's chair, although he is a first favorite in Edin- 
burgh, and a name to conjure with over all Scotland — 
and far beyond. 



138 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

In "auld Reekie" last year I met, for the first time, 
Alan Reid, the author of ' ' Songs of The Heatherland. ' ' 
I believe he is the only Scottish poet I ever saw topped 
with a "him" hat for his ordinary everyday head-wear. 
But then he is a professional man, a teacher of music, I 
was told, and something must be conceded for the Capi- 
tal City of Scotland, and its swell society customs. I had 
come across Reid's books in the North— he has pub- 
lished both prose and poetry— and hailed him at once 
as a true singer and delineator of Scottish character. 
His shorter poems are delicious morsels and his vo- 
cabulary is richer, it seems to me, than what is used by 
almost any of his contemporaries. He is bold in style 
and successfully so, saying much in little, and always 
with rich verbal melody and artistic musical effect. 

William Freeland, another Glasgow poet, although 
a native of Kirkintilloch, is already a classic. At the 
end of a long journalistic career he is spending his 
final vacation after his soul's desire, at home, among 
his books. His pen is still busy and his muse is as 
fresh as ever. He impressed me as being good for a 
score of years yet— conspicuously clean, neat, precise, 
erect in bearing and with the heart of a boy. He was 
the founder of the Glasgow Ballad Club and still is its 
president. He has published several volumes of poems, 
and is the author of more than one successful novel. 
His lyrical faculty is of the purest strain— perhaps too 
fine for popular consumption, but he will always have 
the "fit audience tho' few." Some of his poems are 
known to every true book-lover. 

In the United States Thomas C. Latto succeeded 
Hew Ainslie as the Scottish- American Poet-Laureate. 
I never met Latto, but have had many letters from him 
and not a few original manuscripts. It is some time 
since he died in Brooklyn at a ripe old age— the exact 
date, I believe, being May 5, 1894. He had published 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 139 

several volumes of poems and his "Kiss ahint the 
door," as well as "When we were at the Schule," are 
two songs that will be printed and sung as long as the 
Scottish dialect endures. He was a link that joined this 
age to the era of Sir Walter Scott, Professor Aytoun, 
John Wilson, Lord Macaulay and D. M. Moir, all of 
whom he knew personally. 

Another welcome singer of the New York circle is 
Duncan MacGregor Crerar, often referred to from 
his native district as ' ' the bard of Amulree. ' ' He has 
enjoyed the intimate friendship of men like George 
MacDonald and William Black, and mostly all the other 
prominent Scots that have visited the land of the Al- 
mighty Dollar. Crerar is a fastidious writer, polishing 
and repolishing until every fleck or flaw is removed, and 
the lyric or sonnet stands forth absolutely perfect in 
form and finish. His style is more condensed than 
spontaneous, but is always easy and melodious. No 
one has excelled him in the neatness and sweetness with 
which he can pay a personal compliment, and I believe 
in a quarrel he is equally capable of taking his own 
part against all comers, whether the vehicle used be 
Scotch, English or Gaelic, and in the form of an essay, 
a sonnet or a song. In the Spring of this year he re- 
turned to Scotland. 

Before I made the personal acquaintance of James 
Kennedy, of New York City, I used to think him one of 
our happiest writers in the vernacular. I think so still. 
He has published several poetical collections, and every- 
thing is good that he has written. With pen and ink, in 
musical verse, he can tell a story, point a moral, sketch 
a character or sing a song as few indeed can do. Some 
of his comic poems are unexcelled by anything in Scot- 
tish literature. There is a deftness, a lightness, a liveli- 
ness and a cleanness about his style that makes it as 
spontaneous as his native Noran burn. Mr. Ken- 



140 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

nedy has reached the half century mark, and is 
probably a little beyond it. His children are all 
grown up; he lives in his own house; his wife is as 
Scotch as himself. For years he was engaged in the 
exacting employment of The Elevated Eailroad Co., but 
latterly turned his attention to practical politics and 
now has a lucrative position under the city government. 
It was a great pleasure to hear of his good fortune, and 
all his friends are hoping that with happier bread-win- 
ning conditions his Scottish lyre, too long neglected, 
may soon be redusted and resumed. 

In "Bonnie Baltimore" bides D. M. Hendeeson. He 
is of middle age, quiet in manner and conducts a book- 
store for a living. A North of Scotland man, he has 
been so long in America that he has almost lost his na- 
tive accent. But his poems always smack of the heather, 
and have about them the perfume of the broom of Cale- 
donia. He is not a voluminous writer, but has to his 
credit one of the best little books of Scottish verse pub- 
lished in the United States since he touched its shores. 
His is the true lyric gift, and being a faithful artificer, he 
shows nothing but perfect work. The leading Ameri- 
can poets rave over him, and may well do so, as with the 
exception of two or three in the foremost rank none 
comes near him in any department of verse. The last 
time I saw him he was less interested in his own work 
that in a poem by one of his sons, who is evidently 
destined to heir the paternal poetical mantle. But there 
are many years of good singing in the old man yet, and 
all his admirers trust and pray that he may live to print 
another volume. 

Wm. Caenie, of Aberdeen, I met by appointment at 
his own residence in that city. He is now on the retired 
list officially, having held city office so long and so ac- 
ceptably that he earned his pension some years ago, 
leaving his desk in a blaze of glory, with a public dinner 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 141 

and a portrait by Sir George Reid (another Aberdon- 
ian). Mr. Carnie has been an Aberdeen boy for so 
long that he has come to be looked upon as a permanent 
fixture, and indeed his local fame is as safe as The 
Market Cross. He has been writing verse and prose for 
over half a century. His latest book is a delightful col- 
lection of what was best and brightest in ' ' The Granite 
City" for the last two generations, and is not only a 
brilliant addition to local history but a valuable con- 
tribution to the spirit of the times generally. Mr. Car- 
nie has issued several collections of poems, small in 
size, but by no means meagre in quality. Intensely 
patriotic, he has in his verses made the Aberdeen "leid" 
classical, fairly dividing the honors with Dr. Alexan- 
der's graphic prose. I found Mr. Carnie in good health 
and in fine spirits, busy on a continuation of his remin- 
iscences. We had a delightful crack together, and I 
felt specially honored in sitting at the feet of such a 
far-famed city father and much-loved son of " Bon- 
Accord," even for the brief two hours at my disposal. 
I like some of Carnie 's poems very much. No one has 
excelled him in the vividness with which he paints his 
little sketches of Aberdeenshire rustic life. He has a 
special genius for homely words and phrases that carry 
drollness with them, apart from his fine lyrical gift. 
No other North Country poet that I know has dared to 
go so far as Carnie in the broad vernacular that flour- 
ishes by the banks of Don and Dee, and yet with all his 
realism he is as clean as a whistle and as wholesome as 
a sunbeam. Mr. Carnie has also another claim to dis- 
tinction, being known to all music lovers as the psalm- 
ody expert of Scotland. His "Northern Psalter" is 
without a rival and is in itself sufficient guarantee of 
immortality for any man. Out of hundreds of pleasant 
incidents in the life of our poet and historian not the 
least worthy of note is his connection with William 
11 



142 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Broomfield, the Aberdeen composer of "St. Kilda"— a 
psalm tune that some enthusiast has said is "fit to be 
sung at the gates of Heaven." Mainly through Mr. 
Carnie's efforts the Broomfield Memorial Volume was 
published, the profits being used to place a beautiful 
monument on the grave of the gifted musician. Any 
one who visits Allenvale Cemetery, Aberdeen, should 
not fail to see the Broomfield memorial with the notes of 
"St. Kilda" cut into the enduring granite, forming a 
most unique ornament and the best possible epitaph. 

It is hard to place Robert Shiells, of Neenah, a Wis- 
consin pioneer, hailing from the mighty shire of Edin- 
burgh. In 1849 he helped to set the first pegs for the 
first railway in the Badger State. He is a successful 
local banker, an antiquary of world-wide fame, the 
honored historian of The Token, and he has been writ- 
ing Scottish verse since long before the Civil War. 
The veteran still can sound his lyre to good effect, al- 
though his antiquarian studies have engrossed the most 
of his leisure time in later years. His "Story of the 
Token" in an enlarged edition appeared last summer, 
evoking complimentary reviews from all the leading 
authorities and flattering notices from many of the 
greatest notables of our day. Mr. Shiells has done 
much for his adopted town since he settled there years 
ago, and all in all he is a Thistle of truly classic mould. 
I have enjoyed his correspondence and his friendship 
for the past dozen years. 

Wallace Bruce is an all-round literary man, a prom- 
inent lecturer and a distinguished diplomat. In Phila- 
delphia I heard him once tell how he came to bear two 
such honored names. The first intention of his parents 
was to call him McAlpin Bruce, but after much debate 
this was decided to be too "top-heavy" a name; "so," 
said he, "they settled on 'Wallace-Bruce' and thus 
made it top-heavier still. ' ' Bruce is an active little man, 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 143 

with flowing white hair, and any one to see him on the 
street would promptly decide that he is something out 
of the ordinary. He is a good platform speaker, can al- 
ways fill his house and please his audience. As a poet 
he is in the front rank, and for a native American is the 
finest writer of Scottish verse I know. He has found 
an entrance to the best magazines and literary journals 
on both sides of the Atlantic. His style is clear, smooth 
and energetic ; his themes well selected, with his rhyme 
and rhythm always true. "When U. S. Consul at Leith 
he was highly honored by the Scotch. He was mainly 
instrumental in placing the fine statue to Lincoln on the 
Calton Hill, Edinburgh, and in other ways succeeded in 
strengthening the union between Britain and America. 
Mr. Bruce is the author of many volumes of verse, all of 
which have had a wide general circulation. 

Robert Whittet, of Richmond, Va., was born at 
Perth in 1829 and crossed the Atlantic when forty years 
of age. He is a printer and publisher at the head of 
one of the best equipped plants in the South. In 1882 
appeared his handsome volume entitled ' ' The Brighter 
Side of Suffering and Other Poems," and since then 
he has made other ventures in the same domain. He 
writes in the Doric with much sweetness and tenderness, 
but the bulk of his verse is in ''King's English" or 
what is sometimes colloquially styled here— " United 
States." 

John Stuart Blackie was more of an English than 
a Scottish poet, but who shall be so bold as to say he 
was more an Englishman than a Scotsman? He wrote 
sparingly in the dialect, but often on Scottish subjects. 
One of his books on Scottish song is as fine as anything 
published on that topic. He was an enthusiast on native 
music, and did not hesitate to lilt a sang in public even 
on the Sabbath day, which was surely an awful thing 
for a grave professor to do in bonnie Scotland. With 



144 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

his plaid and staff and flowing white locks he made a 
picturesque figure on the streets of Edinburgh. He 
wrote a wretched hand, but was a kindly critic. I re- 
ceived many letters and poems from him, and sincerely 
mourned when I heard of the death of the grand old 
man of Scotland. One of his prose bon mots is worth 
recording; Defining some "ism" that claimed its aim 
to be "the greatest good of the greatest number," he 
explained: "the greatest number in this case being— 
Number One!" 

By many Robert Reid ("Rob Wanlock"), of Mon- 
treal, Canada, is conceded to be the living Scottish- 
American Poet-Laureate. His "Moorland Rhymes" 
and his "Poems, Songs and Sonnets" contain exquisite 
gems of true poetry in the vernacular and in the plain 
English. No one has better interpreted the poesy of 
Scotia's moors and glens and braes and hills. Mr. 
Reid has also triumphantly shown that the Doric is well 
fitted for a sacred theme, his beautiful "Kirkbride" 
being one of the finest tributes ever penned to the mem- 
ory of the Convenanters. In the difficult Sonnet form, 
which Mr. Reid often employs, he writes with masterly 
effect. His lines are not simply words patched to- 
gether ; they flow and sing with ease and grace. There 
are also weird and mystical elements in his writings that 
add to their charm. Mr. Reid is a native of Wanlock- 
head and published his first book in 1874. 

Among other modern Scottish poets with whom I 
have corresponded, and exchanged verses, or personally 
known, I have only space briefly to mention William 
Martin, retired schoolmaster of Inverkeithney, now lo- 
cated in Edinburgh, who can write a lyric or play the 
violin with equal skill; Alexander Brown, also of 
"Auld Reekie," a writer of fine taste and high ideals, 
who contributed to the first number of The People's 
Friend, and is still spared to grace its columns with 



SOME MODERN SCOTTISH POETS. 145 

an occasional song; John Imrie, of Toronto, a leal- 
hearted lyrist, who died only the other day; the 
venerable William Wye Smith, of St. Catharine 's, On- 
tario, famous all over the world for his translations 
of the Psalms into Scotch meter; Dr. J. E. Rankin, 
President of Howard University, Washington, D. C, 
who has made many charming contributions to the dia- 
lect of Burns; Col. A. R. Gunn, of Philadelphia, a 
Banffshire man, who in the midst of an active business 
life, has devoted much time to Caledonian affairs and to 
church matters, and yet has assiduously cultivated a 
patriotic vein in poesy; W. D. Jeffreys, a native of 
Rhynie, the author of many songs that have survived 
him in his beloved Strath; "Carl Doddie," a Clatt 
artist, rhymer and elocutionist with a good grasp of the 
Doric; Robert Grant, of Peterhead, who sang sweetly 
of the "rapid rolling Spey," and "Johnnie Smith, a 
f alia fine " ; G. G. Ingram, formerly of Huntly, an adept 
at every style of verse ; James H. Cousins, of Dublin, 
a warm-hearted Celt who has honored me with several 
dialect poems, and at the present time, as "Seamus 
O'Cuisin," is one of the leading native and national 
Irish dramatists; Dr. Morrison, of Buffalo, N. Y., 
whose muse can lilt on occasion with no little spirit; 
A. S. Alexander, of Madison, Wisconsin, whose recently 
published "Verses in Scotch" will well repay perusal; 
J. McCombie Murray, of Philadelphia, a Doctor 
of Music and a good extemporaneous poet; Sir 
William Allan, M.P. for Gateshead, an all-around 
man that can make lays as well as laws, and is more 
particularly noted in another chapter of this book; 
John MacIntosh, "tailor and poet," a true son of the 
North, who favored me with many beautiful songs and 
epistles ; Colin Rae-Brown, a native of Greenock, who 
could write pleasantly on ' ' Tauties ' ' or love ; H. Pater- 
son Bayne, a Coat-bridge chap, the Poet-Laureate of 



146 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

the Glasgow Rosebery Burns Club; Alexander 
Walker, of Chester, Pa., a prolific writer in Scotch 
and English for many years; "La Teste," of Elgin, 
a Scottish bard who lived to see the tenth edition of 
his poems ; and G. W. Anderson, of Rhynie, author of 
the "Lays of Strathbogie, " whose military genius has 
kept pace with his literary gifts, and has secured for 
him high commission in the King's Army as well as 
the laurel wreath that is only awarded to the true min- 
strel. While I write the news reaches me that my friend 
is now "Anderson Bey" in the Egyptian Army. As 
I began with a lass I will also end with one— Miss 
Jessie Anne Anderson, of Aberdeen, a most industri- 
ous and pleasing writer in verse and prose who has 
ventured into many fields. Under great disadvantages 
Miss Anderson has made an honorable record for her- 
self, extending her fame far beyond the banks of her 
native Dee, and with every year adds to her strength, 
her skill, her reputation and her circle of friends. 

If my readers have carelessly been inclined to think 
that Scottish poetry died with Robert Burns a perusal 
of the works of the bards I have named will speedily 
and satisfactorily upset that hasty conclusion. No one 
begrudges Robert Burns his fame and his preeminent 
title, but it should not be forgotten that he is only one 
of Scotia's glorious galaxy of poetical stars, and he has 
by no means exhausted Scottish life and character any 
more that he has obscured the many other bright and 
brilliant lights of Scottish verse that shine and sparkle 
in our present era. And furthermore, if Burns were 
alive to-day, he would be the first and foremost to rec- 
ognize the sterling merits of every one of the modern 
Doric "makkirs" that have been too briefly delineated 
in this off-hand article. 



RHYNIE AND ROUN' ABOOT. 

Weel faured she wiz, an', by my troth, 

A canty kibble quiney, 
The lass that cam' fae fitt o' Noth 

Aside the Meer o' Rhyme. 

Rhynie is the name of a place in Fearn, Ross-shire, 
and there is a Rhynie or Rhynach near Aberchirder, 
Banffshire, but as all the world is aware the Rhynie 
known to fame is Rhynie in Aberdeenshire, situated 
on Bogieside, between Auchindoir and Gartly, and it 
is of this Rhynie and roun' aboot it that the author 
has a few words to say. 

Until the antiquarians and philologists decide what 
the meaning of the word is I cannot enrich my pages 
with that desirable information. An old form of the 
name was Rhynin (used 1226-1232), and Rhinn, Rhynd, 
and Rhinneen are supposed to be variations of the same 
word, all suggesting " headland, " or " little point" 
from the Gaelic root Roinn, "a point or headland." 
Strange to say, too, the scholars who have looked into 
the matter think the headland of the Bell-Knowe sug- 
gested the name rather than the magnificent hill of 
Noth. There is a parish of Rhynie, and a village of 
Rhynie, the latter until recent times known as "The 
Muir of Rhynie ' ' and sometimes for brevity cut to ' ' The 
Meer. ' ' The whole district is a part of the great Gor- 
don land of yore, now known as Strathbogie, and every 
nook of it has its tale of stirring deeds in the days gone 
by. The Gordons of Craig, Lesmoir and Scurdargue 
all had their castles in the immediate neighborhood. 
The first-named residence is still in existence, although 
occupied by a stranger.* 

* Craig Castle is in the parish of Auchindoir, but like Drumminor 
Castle (in Kearn), from geographical position seems to come more 

147 



148 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

The second stronghold is a ruin, and of the third — 
Jock-o '-Gordon 's fort— not even a trace now remains. 
To the east of the village stands Drumminor Castle, 
redolent of treachery and tragedy in the olden times. 
It was long the headquarters of the Forbeses, but in 
time passed into the hands of the Grants. The Ander- 
son clan seems also to have had its headquarters in this 
section of the North. Other forms of the name are 
"McAndrew," ' ' Gillanders " and "Andermas." It is 
an offshoot from the tribe of Eoss. The arms of the 
Andersons of Noth were charged with ploughshare and 
axe, their crest was a fir-tree, and their motto "Stand 
Sure. ' ' Probably the origin of the clan is Scandinavian, 
making the Andersens of the same kith and kin. To 
this day the Andersons are prominent in Strathbogie. 

Eev. Mr. Anderson, formerly of Khynie and now 
parish minister of Gartly, is a worthy representative of 

naturally under the Rhynie chapter. The first Gordon of Craig, and 
the one to build the Castle in the beginning of the sixteenth century, 
was Patrick, the grandson of Sir John, the chief of the clan, who 
fell at Otterburn. That the ancient family did not hesitate to press 
onward " red-wat shod " if need be, the ancient ballad testifies : 

" The Gordons good in English blood 
They steeped their hose and shoon 
While frae their plaids the gory flood 
In burns ran gushin' doon." 

Flodden field claimed the first Laird of Craig and the second was 
pinked off at Pinkie, 1547. Their successors took part in whatever 
fighting was going on in their day. When the Jacobites attacked Dun- 
fermline in " The Fifteen " uprising, Francis, the eighth Laird of Craig, 
was taken prisoner. It was probably because he had been wounded, 
as he soon after died in Stirling Castle. The Laird of my time was 
James Shirreffs Gordon, a man who in his life played many parts. The 
present proprietor is Mr. Penny-Craik, who has done much to improve 
the estate. Craig Castle is in excellent condition, and symbolizes in 
itself much that is old and new. 

At Craig Castle: Now — and Then. 

To what good uses may we bring at last 
The gruesome relics of the Brutal Past! 



RHYNIE AN' ROUND ABOOT. 149 

the stock— able, helpful, self-sacrificing, modest— a man 
whose whole long career has been devoted to good prac- 
tising as well as to good preaching— and who can rest 
from his labors with the satisfaction that he leaves 
worthy sons who have for some time been following 
in the footsteps of their honored sire.* 

Nothing is left of the first owners in the Drumminor 
neighborhood but their family burying vault in the 

Craig Castle now has in its Servants' Hall 
As may be seen projecting from a wall, 
The sturdy Cleek that in the days of yore 
The Gibbet was to wretches by the score. 
Yes 3 it has seen the last of many men 
For Lairds had pow'r of pot and gallows then, 
Were Sole Controllers of the Common Weal 
And pass'd decrees that changed to no appeal; 
As truly Kings within their own domains 
As any Shah that in the present reigns. 

But thanks to Fighters and to Scholars thrawn 

Who labor'd long that better days might dawn, 

Who pierced the dark with Learning's Torches bright, 

And vanquished Tyranny at last with Right, 

The little Despots of the Small Estates 

Hold no more Courts behind their guarded gates, 

But now are subject to the self-same laws 

That give protection to the Poor Man's Cause. 

And lo! within this ancient Castle's room 

So long notorious in the Age of Gloom 

The very Cleek, the sign of ancient might 

Is utilized from which to hang a Light; 

A little Lamp that with its cheerful ray 

So finely typifies our better day; 

Presaging also, by its beacon flame, 

Still greater progress and a grander fame! 

To such good uses may we put at last 
All gruesome relics of the feudal Past. 

* When I think of the scholarly attainments of such men and the 
vast stores of experience they can draw from, yet note how meagre are 
their contributions to the publisher's lists, I feel a twinge at the 
temerity of a youthful writer like myself rushing rashly into print. 
But as I have always said, a beginning is better than nothing, and if 
such a hotch-potch as this book of mine should only inspire some one 
to do much better it will not have been produced in vain. 



150 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

churchyard of Kearn. I paid it a visit last fall in com- 
pany with an intelligent friend, and we decided it was 
better to be living dogs than dead lions, even with all 
the pompous epitaphs that marked their lordly graves.* 

Nine miles north of Ehynie is situated Huntly Castle, 
the king of them all in the Gordon jurisdiction, but yet 
second in importance to the Royal Castle of Kildrummy 
about the same distance to the south. 

Historically Ehynie can hold its own with any place, 
and its guardian Tap o ' Noth rising 1,851 feet above the 
level of the sea and 1,400 feet above the surrounding 
valley has looked down upon many stirring scenes. 
This hill deserves more than mere mention. It is be- 
lieved to be the "Nuath" immortalized in Ossian's 
poems, the bardic strains that Walt Whitman loved to 
pore over, as they were the never-failing admiration of 
Napoleon Bonaparte.f 

Some say Noth means "nothing"— and this inter- 
pretation might be well defended— but I lean to the 
Gaelic word Taip-a-nochd, which is translated "hill 
of observation." In this respect Tap o' Noth plays 
second fiddle to none, as from its favorable location it 
commands a view of a wider prospect than may be seen 
from any other point in Scotland— or even Great 
Britain.'! As seen from Lumsden Village it is a bonny 

* Sixteen barons of Forbes are said to be planted in the Kearn 
kirkyard. In the same cemetery there is buried another " baron," if the 
preserved inscription of Laing " Baron of Noth " is to be accepted, 
but the chances are that this " Johne " was only a " baron baillie," 
which was a barren title compared to that of the noblemen of Brux. 

t In strains that range from harsh to soft ' the mystic voice of 
Cona' is heard discussing " Nuath " oft in " Lathmon " and " Oithona." 
And let who will incline to carp, — I long have had the notion that 
" Rhyno's " sweet and mournful harp shows Rhynie known to Ossian. 

| An Aberdeen newspaper correspondent took umbrage at me last 
winter because I dared to say that I had seen a more extensive pros- 
pect from Flag Rock, Va., than was possible from Tap o' Noth. The 
controversy raged for weeks, without eliciting anything new, or per- 
haps changing any one's opinion — such discussions rarely do. I was 



RHYNIE AN' ROUND ABOOT. 151 

hill, graceful, well-balanced, finely finished and even ma- 
jestic in its big bulk and bold outline. Its top is crowned 
by a circular wall of fused stones, claimed by some au- 
thorities to mark the remains of a volcano, and by others 
asserted to be the finest example of a vitrified fort now 
in existence. The ruins are oblong in form, and about 
two hundred and seventy yards in circumference. I 
think there is little doubt that a fort or castle or temple 
once stood on the Tap o' Noth, but whether the walls 
were vitrified by some lost art, or the ruins fused by the 
frequent lighting of beacon fires on them, or whether the 
lava-looking ramparts are of volcanic origin will, I fear, 
forever remain undecided. Some varieties of stone are 
more verifiable than others and many writers contend 
that in the case of other so-called vitrified forts, like 
Dunnideer, the stones fused were not native to the dis- 
trict. Mr. Charles Proctor, F.I.C., of London, has made 
an exhaustive chemical and geological study of the Tap 
o' Noth stones, and emphatically says and proves that 
the fused and unfused rocks of the Rhynie hill are iden- 
tical. There is or was a well in the cup or saucer of the 
Tap, but whether a spring or a reservoir is also un- 
settled. Rhynie may well be proud of this magnificent 
and mysterious mountain. If we had it here in America 
as near to railroads and civilization as it is to the G. N. 
S. R. and its thickly populated territory we should 
make of it a pleasure resort par excellence, as I believe 
even in Scotland it is destined yet to become. With a 
switchback or spiral trolley railroad it could be easily 
scaled, and the fine platform or plateau on its summit 
would make a natural stage on which not only common 

glad, however, of the chance to slip in a few rhymes from which I quote 
a verse: 

We all have castles in the air, 

Or on the ground — and some hae both; 
And I — when I'm a millionaire — 

Will build me mine on Tap o' Noth ! 



152 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

lads and lasses but even kings and queens might be 
pleased to disport themselves. 

Who, I wonder, can tell anything about the rights 
of the people on such hills as the Buck, Bennachie and 
Tap o' Noth? Mr. Lachlan McEae, of Inverness, who 
was in charge of the Ordnance Survey Party that ascer- 
tained and determined the boundaries of every parish 
in Aberdeenshire, informed me that up till that time 
(1864 to 1866) the majority of the county hill-tops were 
true ' * commonties " — common to people and lairds 
alike ; but on the settling of the marches the rights of 
the common people were ignored, and the various es- 
tate-proprietors divided between them every inch of 
land clear to the sky, or, where only one proprietor, 
gobbled all. Mr. MacEae is of the belief that the Tap 
o' Noth is crowned with the ruins of a Druidical temple, 
and from his wide observation and practical experi- 
ence—continued for over a score of years, and extending 
from Cape Wrath to the Isle of Wight— his opinion is 
entitled to more than ordinary consideration. He has 
witnessed under the most favorable auspices the great 
Druid ceremonies in Wales, when pilgrims were present 
from France and far-off India. He writes me that the 
Tap o' Noth arrangement of foundations corresponds 
with the universal plan and position of all such circles 
even to the ''Temple Stone" a little distance from "the 
ring," stating also that when he examined this speci- 
men of "Eocking Stone" it could be moved by the 
hand, but of course not displaced. 

The many sculptured hieroglyphic standing stones 
to be found in the district are also believed to be of 
Druidical origin, with the exception of one or two that 
tradition asserts to be monuments to fallen heroes. The 
Druids worshipped many gods, taught the immortality 
of the soul, revered the sun and fire, made attempts at 
astronomy, and used the rites of augury from the slaugh- 



KHYNIE AN' ROUND ABOOT. 153 

ter of human victims. Writers on the phallic origin of 
all religions have very ingenious and plausible theories 
on the meaning of Druid rings and Druid pillars, from 
which symbols, so they tell us, have developed our 
Christian pulpits and church (circle) spires. 

Stone coffins,* axes and flint arrowheads have fre- 
quently been found in Rhynie parish, and several of the 
natives have made fair collections, the best museum of 
the kind at the present time being owned by Mrs. 
Knight, of Mytice on Kirkney-side. She has also a 
rare collection of old coins, including, I believe, an al- 
most complete set of "Romans" and quite "a fouth o' 
auld nick nackets ' ' in general. The antiquarian treas- 
ures of Mr. Win. Shand, of Lang Craft, are also worth 

seeing, t 

I have not the space, nor is it necessary here to enter 
into the detailed history of the valley from the days 

* The most of people near Noth — and many a good bit beyond — 
have heard about the giants that frequented the Tap and Bennachie in 
ancient times. " Jock o' Noth," according to all accounts of prose 
tradition and ballad lore, must have been the King of all the big men, 
and a real " Cock of the North" (the title now heired by The Marquis 
of Huntly). The big stone on the face of the Tap known as "Jock 
the Giant's Stane " is a standing monument to his size and strength, 
since he playfully stopped it with his foot when hurled at him by 
Jock o' Bennachie, who had invaded Noth's fort; and as proof of the 
fact it bears the impress of his brogue to this day! About the middle 
of the last century a large stone cist was unearthed when ploughing 
a field near the Hill of Noth, and a skeleton revealed of gigantic 
proportions. Rev. Wm. Reid, of Auchindoir, had the bones boxed up 
and removed to the kirkyard. 

Tho' nae sae big as it micht hae been 
It show'd there was mair than froth 
In some o' the exploits said to be seen 
O' the giants o' Tap o' Noth. 

fit has always been of special interest to me, when wandering 
through the antiquarian museums in the United States, to find dis- 
played among the curios exact counterparts of the so-called " elfin 
arrowheads " common to my native hills and glens. The business of 
fashioning flint, which was evidently common to both continents in 
prehistoric times, is now classed among the lost arts. 



154 HERE AND THERE IIST TWO HEMISPHERES. 

of the Picts and Celts to the last military march on 
record— the Duke of Cumberland's in 1746. Rhynie 
was prominently to the front in the wars of Macbeth, 
of the Islesmen culminating in Harlaw, in the raids of 
the Caterans, in the many broils between the Northern 
clans, and in the rebellions of "The Fifteen" and "The 
Forty-five. ' ' 

In peaceful walks of life Rhynie has many triumphs 
to her credit, and not a few men of real power have 
graduated from her schools. Among her noted ex- 
ports to foreign lands Rev. Robert Duff has a prominent 
position. He was for a time schoolmaster at Rhynie, 
but early in life emigrated to British Guiana, where he 
became Senior Minister of the Church of Scotland in 
that colony, exercising a marked influence on the com- 
munity until his death in 1878. He had a facile and 
entertaining pen and, busy as he was at his missionary 
labors, he managed to give us more than one valuable 
book on the land of his adoption.* 

"Mackay of Uganda" was also a Rhynie loon, where 
his father, the Free Church minister of the place, wrote 
some of his well-known text-books on geography. 

Dr. Patrick Smith, of Queensland, should also be men- 
tioned, and if only by name leading alumni of the 
Rhynie Mutual Instruction Society, t such as Dr. Hen- 

*This remarkable club, tbe pioneer of all similar associations, has 
been excellently commemorated by its able founder, the Rev. Robert 
Harvey Smith, M.A., in his handsomely printed and intensely inter- 
esting volume entitled "A Village Propaganda" (Douglas, Edin- 
burgh, 1889). To be survived by such an excellent book is better than 
to leave any amount of barren bawbees, or even more substantial 
" hooses an' land." Mr. Smith was for a long time Congregational 
minister in Clatt. 

tjlt took me just twenty years to secure his " Notes on British 
Guiana," and to the kindness of his old pupil, Rev. George Compton 
Smith (retired Congregational minister, now of Hastings, England), I 
owe this interesting addition to my library. Having been the copy 
that once belonged to Rev. Robert Harvey Smith, the value of it is 
thrice enhanced to me, and secures for it a prominent niche in the 
' Tap o' Noth alcove ' of my ' Aberdeenshire ' bookcase. 



EHYNIE AN' ROUND ABOOT. 155 

derscm of China, Robert Main of Capetown, James Law, 
the Carrier, and Robert Pirie, tailor— the two last named 
emigrating to Canada. Of Rhynie lads who attained 
distinction at home James Macdonell, the journalist, had 
perhaps the most swiftly brilliant success. His "Life" 
has been written by Dr. Robertson Nicoll, and is the 
only example extant of the biography of a journalist, 
pure and simple. Macdonell began on the Free Press 
of Aberdeen, and finished as leader writer on The 
Times of London, dying at the early age of thirty-seven. 
Another big literary man from the vale was Alexander 
Allardyce, whose last office was editing Blackwood's 
Magazine. He was the author of several successful 
novels, in some of which are incorporated suggestions 
from Rhynie life and character, just as Sir George Reid, 
ex-President of the Royal Scottish Academy, illustrated 
Dr. Alexander's immortal "Johnny Gibb" from liv- 
ing types he found at the fitt o ' the Tap. 

In more recent times Rev. Mr. Edwards conducted an 
improvement class at Rhynie, and at least two of his 
pupils have shown a good beginning in making name 
and position for themselves, viz., James F. Tocher, of 
Peterhead, as an analytic chemist, and Dr. Charles An- 
gus, who holds an important office as an insanity ex- 
pert.* 

In these random notes on Rhynie Mr. David Horn, 
J.P., should not be forgotten. He was a painstaking 
gleaner in local biographical and antiquarian fields, 
more than one recent writer having drawn from his 
interesting manuscripts. Neither should James Duff, 
farmer, of New and Old Noth, be omitted, one of the 

* The writer was the solitary Lumsden member of this class, walking 
in the evenings a distance of eight miles, to and fro, in order to get the 
advantages of the tuition and the fellowship; but, as now recalled, 
there was as much fun as instruction in the final results; and how 
could it be otherwise with John MacPherson at his best, and Vansittart 
Riddel and his chums in their normal merry key? 



156 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

sterling men of the district who has left his monument 
in Duff's School, which he erected and furnished before 
the days of boards or government inspectors, a good 
work that was continued and augmented by his son, 
Robert Duff, who died only last September. 

The Rhynie folks are fairly enterprising, but it can- 
not be denied that their greatest successes have been 
accomplished by those who have acted in conformity 
with the spirit of my friend "Wasty's"* hospitable ad- 
vice, which applies to more things than to the pleasures 
of the table: 

"Noo help yer set's, an' if ye canna get what ye want sittin', 

JIST RISE AND RAX FOR 't ! " 

Appendix. 
The following notices extracted from The Royal Ga- 
zette, of Georgetown, Demarara, British Guiana, under 
date of August 24, 1878, may not be unacceptable to 
Rhynie readers : 

Duff — On the 18th inst., at his residence in Stanley Town, New 
Amsterdam, the Reverend Robert Duff, aged 69. For many years 
senior Minister of the Scotch Church in British Guiana. 

Oue obituary for the fortnight contains the name of the Reverend 
Robert Duff for many years a minister of the Scotch Church in this 
colony. Arriving in the colony early in the fifth decade of this century, 
Mr. Duff first became assistant to the Rev. Dr. Struthers, then minister 
of St. Andrews, whose daughter he married, and he subsequently 
succeeded to the charge of the parishes of St. Mary, St. Mark, and All 
Saints, New-Amsterdam. Of the latter he retained charge until his 
final retirement from the ministry some ten years ago. Endued with 
considerable intellectual ability and independence of character com- 
bined with great physical activity and endurance, Mr. Duff was in his 
day a man of mark. Stories are still told of his pedestrian feats in 
times when the means of locomotion were neither so numerous nor so 
rapid as now, that in our degenerate day are scarcely credible. He 
was fond of agriculture and made it his practice to cultivate his glebe 
lands with his own hands. Of horticulture and floriculture he was a 
diligent student, and in herborization he took great delight. Well 



* Mr. Robert Forbes, farmer, Westseat, Gartly. 



RHYNIE AN' ROUND ABOOT. 157 

acquainted with the enormous resources of the colony, he never tired 
of urging upon the poorer classes of the people the importance of at- 
tention to such subjects and especially of sobriety and industry as 
means of improving their physical condition, increasing their comforts, 
and enhancing the enjoyments of life. Not that his personal tastes were 
in any sense Epicurean; his habits, in fact, were somewhat ascetic and 
his manner austere; and he was rather held in respect for his abilities 
and force of character than beloved on account of his possession of 
those softer and more feminine qualities which frequently form such 
powerful bonds of union between pastors and their flocks. Some years 
ago he published a volume of " Notes on British Guiana," containing 
much useful information on matters connected with the colony. Though 
he had well nigh attained the full measure of man's allotted sojourn on 
earth, his widow survives him. Two of his sons are well known in the 
colony as successful practical planters. 

In a Scottish paper of recent date, we find the following notice of 
the death of Mr. Duff's elder brother: 

Rhynie — Late Mb. Duff. — As a parish, we have sustained a great 
loss in the death of one of our oldest farmers, Mr. James Duff of New- 
noth. He died on the 25th inst., at the ripe age of 81 years, but al- 
though he had reached so far beyond the average span of human 
existence, it is only within recent years that he has been seriously af- 
fected by the frailties of age. Mr. Duff was well known, not only in 
the immediate neighborhood to which he belonged, but throughout the 
whole of this northern district, as a prosperous and enterprising 
farmer. Since he entered on the farm of Newnoth in 1822, he has 
effected many permanent improvements on it. Not the least of these 
is reclaiming of large tracts of land, a labour in which he spared 
neither trouble nor expense. His general manner and quaint humour 
made him a favourite with all with whom he came in contact, and 
gathered round him many friends, who cannot soon forget the good 
qualities of the man. He took a great interest in the education of the 
young, a fact which is amply testified by his building a school almost 
entirely at his own expense for the convenience of those children whose 
homes were too far distant from the parish school. This building, 
which bears his name, will serve as a memorial of one out of the many 
kind and disinterested acts which have ever marked Mr. Duff's long and 
eventful life. For the long period of forty years he has been an elder 
of the Parish Church, and on Sabbath last, the Rev. Mr. Anderson 
feelingly alluded to the loss which the congregation had sustained by 
his decease. In the course of his remarks, he said — 

" Years ago, it was on his urgent representations to the patrons of 
this parish that steps were taken which resulted in my being asked to 
undertake the charge of this congregation, and I may say that from 
the first day of my ministry till now I ever found in him a man ready 
to aid with purse and person in every good word and work. Nothing, 
indeed, gave our old friend more pleasure than to see our Church 
12 



158 HEKB AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

prospering, a Church to which he had steadfastly clung in troublous 
times. As an elder, he gave his time, and put himself to trouble and 
expense, not of constraint but with heart and will. How seldom, 
while health remained, was his familiar face, that betokened a man 
of no ordinary type of character, to be missed in the sanctuary; and 
so intense was his interest in the young of the flock, that he was a 
regular attendant on Sabbath afternoons at that school that we may 
say he erected almost wholly at his own expense, and which will per- 
petuate his name, I trust, for a long time to come. He is gone, almost 
the last of an old generation, and we shall see him no more in this 
world. The poor will miss him, for he never sent them empty away. 
We will all miss the genial old man that has so long borne the vessels 
of the Lord in His temple, and has been the life and soul of many of 
our meetings in other years. But he is gone to experience the blessed 
rest of which we have been this day speaking. In all the confidence 
of friendship, and with the simplicity of a little child, he has been 
wont to unbosom to us his spiritual difficulties and experiences; and 
knowing, as I do, how earnestly he has been looking to our glorious 
Redeemer, I rejoice to believe that he is one of those of whom it may 
be said in the words of our text, ' Blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the spirit, that they may rest from 
their labours, and their works do follow them.' " 



THE MIGHTINESS OF THE MITE. 

" Mony a little mak's a mickle," 
And the economic scholar 
Knows the nacky, nimble nickel 
Oft outstrips the sluggish dollar. 

On Saturday, June 21, 1879, the staid Pennsylvania- 
Germans of Lancaster, Pa., saw a new kind of store 
opened on the west side of North Queen Street, near 
their Pennsylvania Railroad station. It was a beautiful 
day and a little warmer than the season warranted. A 
tall, good looking, active man of twenty-seven had come 
to town, and without any friends or even acquaintances 
had quietly rented the small shop— it was only 14 by 
35 feet— stocked it with a little over four hundred dol- 
lars' worth of goods, and hopefully opened the door 
that Fortune might enter. His ambitions then were 
modest, his highest expectations not going beyond a 
comfortable living. But life was real and earnest with 
him that bright June morning. There was much at 
stake. 

Less than six months before he had made a similar 
start in Utica, N. Y., and because he was not quite ready 
to meet all the demands of the unusual situation he lost 
his foothold, and had to retire defeated. But he could 
not be kept back nor would he be kept down. He had 
discovered why he had failed, and that in itself was a 
great success. More than that, he had plucked up cour- 
age enough to ask his business backers to back him 
again. Now, it is one thing for a man to feel he can 
do better if given a fresh opportunity, but quite an- 
other matter to convince others to put up additional 
money on such a venture. Very few can sympathize 
with the enthusiasm and sanguineness of a young man 

159 



160 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

with a big undeveloped idea. Since the day that Moses 
struck the stubborn rock nearly every great success has 
had its beginning in a small bit of help reluctantly 
wrung from some flinty nature. 

Our Lancaster stranger, who was no other than Mr. 
Frank W. Woolworth, now a multimillionaire, had been 
given his first chance by his former employers, Messrs. 
Moore & Smith of Watertown, N. Y. Both members of 
the firm were willing and anxious to help the young 
man along, although Mr. Moore had some doubts in his 
mind as to the permanent success of a Five Cent Store. 
He did not, however, positively dissuade Mr. Wool- 
worth, and when Mr. Smith said, ' ' Go ahead : I believe 
you can make some money, ' ' no further encouragement 
was needed to try again.* More determined than ever 
to succeed, Mr. Woolworth lost no time in re-launching 
his business bark, the second venture being made, as 
we have noted, on the banks of the Conestoga, forever 
famous as the scene of Fulton's early experiments in 
steam navigation. We may be sure that Frank W. 
Woolworth 's first day in Lancaster was one of great 
anxiety to him. Here was a shop with an idea radically 



* Mr. Woolworth had then, and always has had, great respect for 
his employers, knowing they only wished him to succeed. If one mem- 
ber of the firm was cautious it was as a friend anxious for the young 
man's future; and, where the other ventured more, it was at the risk 
of his own reputation as an adviser in a doubtful game, — a real com- 
mercial leap in the dark. As time went on, justifying Mr. Woolworth's 
course, his employers found it expedient to dissolve partnership, 
and wind up their affairs. While they did not " fail," as the term is 
ordinarily applied, their Dry Goods Store investment turned out badly, 
and, after paying their ordinary debts in full, they owed their friends 
about $25,000.00 at the closing out of their business. Mr. Woolworth 
was then able to substantially reciprocate the kindness and help given 
to him at the beginning of his career. Acting on his advice Mr. 
Smith went into the " 5-and 10c " business in Ohio, with marked 
success; while Mr. Moore opened up the same kind of a store at his 
old business stand, and through the influence and help of Mr. Wool- 
worth paid off all old debts, and has accumulated a fortune besides. 



THE MIGHTINESS OF THE MITE. 161 

new to the district: a varied stock of ornamental and 
useful goods with each article priced at five cents (two 
pence-half penny); a real "Five Cent Store"; now 
1 * familiar in our mouths as household words, ' ' but then 
untested, unnoted, unknown. Ten-cent counters were 
not added for some months. 

The Lancastrians did not storm the one door of the 
little store as soon as the proprietor was ready for busi- 
ness. Some condescended to glance in at the window, 
and doubtless more than one wise-acre prophesied a 
speedy failure for the optimistic odd-fellow behind the 
counter. He would have been considered a rash indi- 
vidual who might have predicted that in less than a 
quarter of a century the man who was making so humble 
a beginning would have his own palatial home* on 
Fifth Avenue, New York City, would preside over the 
affairs of Gotham's big Guardian Trust Co., and be the 
possessor of as fine a fortune as any Lancastrian ever 
made. And yet all this really happened— with ample 
time to spare— as a direct result of the little North 
Queen Street store and the business beginning of June, 
1879. 

It is interesting to linger on that epoch-making day. 
For some hours it looked black enough. Up till noon 
not a single person had entered the shop even to look 
around, to say nothing of buying. But after dinner- 
time there was a turn in the tide. A few extra bold 
visitors actually proved that the articles cost only five 
cents as marked— bought them, carried them off and 
told their neighbors. Then came the rush. At closing 
time Mr. Woolworth found he had taken in $128! 
Whew ! A year 's business like that would mean nearly 
$40,000. It was royal encouragement and the young 
merchant celebrated it by telegraphing for more stock. 
Before the goods arrived he had sold everything in 



* One of the handsomest and most expensive residences in the Com- 
mercial Capital of the New World. 



162 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

his store. He has had many successes since then: 
25,000 people visited one of his New York stores in a 
single day, and at another of his shops in the same city 
he registered no less than 44,060 individual sales in the 
same space of time— a record that is surely without a 
parallel in mercantile annals. Yet sweeter to him than 
any of his later triumphs will ever be considered his 
initial hit in Lancaster. It was the dawn of a new era 
for Woolworth. For that reason doubtless he honored 
the city of his first success by erecting in it a business 
structure that for beauty of design and completeness of 
detail has few equals in the Keystone State.* 

Looking at results to-day they seem easy and simple 
and logical. But the beginning is the part to study. 
Even with the tonic of his opening success Mr. Wool- 
worth had many difficulties to overcome. For one thing 
he was so intensely wrapped up in his little shop that 
he did not know what was going on around him. One 

* The Woolworth Building, located in the business center of Lan- 
caster, is of the French Renaissance style of architecture, five stories 
high and built of stone, steel, iron and brick. On top of all is a finely- 
equipped Roof Garden, furnished with every accessory of a first class 
theatre, and so constructed as to be independent of wind or weather. 
During the summer months the finest vaudeville artists cater to large 
audiences every afternoon and evening. From the front of the Wool- 
worth Building rise two graceful towers that with their gilded decora- 
tions in the daytime and halo of electric lights at night shine out as 
landmarks seen from afar. 

The second, third and fourth floors are rented as offices, being occu- 
pied by lawyers, architects, brokers and other prominent professional 
men. The whole building is supplied with electric freight and passenger 
elevators, is lighted by electricity, heated by steam, and furnished with 
sanitary plumbing of the most approved type. Not a detail of an 
up-to-date business home is lacking, from telephones and telegraphs 
to the latest style of United States mail chutes. 

The ground floor of the building is almost entirely occupied by the 
Woolworth Five and Ten Cent Store — the finest one of all the eighty- 
odd, in location, design, furnishings and appointments. One of its 
outstanding features is a complete roster of all the Woolworth stores, 
giving in raised gilt letters the name of the city, the state and the 
date of opening. In some instances too where stores have not been a 
success and were discontinued the facts are noted. 



THE MIGHTINESS OF THE MITE. 163 

day a traveling man stepped in and bluntly announced : 
"I've got bad news for you, Frank. You are going to 
have competition. There is a man in town just opening 
up another 'five and ten cent store,' and it is a dandy." 
Mr. Woolworth had just enlarged his store, remodeled 
his window and made other improvements that con- 
siderably increased his expense. He confesses he felt 
blue when he realized all the situation. But after wrest- 
ling with it until the next morning he decided it was 
now or never. He pitched in more vigorously, made 
still greater improvements, and in a few months had 
the satisfaction of knowing that he was again alone in 
his chosen field. When he had been a short time in Lan- 
caster it occurred to him that similar stores should pay 
equally well in other cities. He gave much thought to 
the problem, and in the fall of Seventy-nine decided to 
make his first outside experiment, locating his second 
store in Harrisburg, Pa. It did not pay. He started his 
third place at York, Pa., which was also a failure. Ten 
years from his Lancaster start he owned and operated 
twelve stores, and after that his progress was swift. 
He now has some four score stores in full blast, all 
located in the territory east of Pittsburg. In the busiest 
seasons he employs over 5,000 hands, and his working 
force never falls below 2,000 in the dullest months. His 
pay roll exceeds half a million dollars annually. Wool- 
worth's headquarters are located at 280 Broadway, cor- 
ner of Chambers St., New York City. From his private 
office there Mr. Woolworth keeps in constant and instant 
touch with his chain of stores. He has the system of 
management so finely arranged that in a few minutes 
after receiving his morning mail he can tell to a cent 
his total sales, expenses and net profits for the preced- 
ing day. Every store has a local manager who is re- 
sponsible for everything connected with his place. On 
his general staff are fixture experts, inspectors, foreign 



164 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and domestic buyers, besides a large array of stenog- 
raphers and bookkeepers. Every year Mr. Woolworth 
himself goes to Europe.* The values to be found at the 
Woolworth five and ten cent stores are really marvel- 
lous, and could only be possible where everything is 
purchased on a gigantic scale, direct from the manufac- 
turers, and for the all-potent magic of spot cash. Thus 
it is that in making a personal success Mr. Woolworth 
has also become a powerful benefactor at both ends of 
the line— helping his producers, and all dependent on 
him, to steady, full-paid time, and saving money to his 
patrons by the bulk of his business and the many econ- 
omies of his unequalled system. He has been an ob- 
servant servant, and is justly entitled to his big reward, 
since it has been happily reached without oppressing 
any one, but is derived from infinitesimal profits on an 
innumerable multitude of apparently insignificant sales. 
His total business now aggregates about ten million 
dollars annually. 

Frank W. Woolworth was born in Eodman, Jefferson 
County, N. Y., April 13, 1852. He comes of English and 
Irish stock. In his early childhood he got seven years ' 
schooling at the district school, and after helping for 
a time on his father 's farm, his mother induced him, at 
at the age of twenty-one, to take a commercial-school 
course at Watertown. By chumming with another 
boy and getting weekly food supplies from home 

* It may surprise many to know that Mr. Woolworth imports a 
larger tonnage of toys and tree ornaments than all other United States 
buyers put together, and fully one half of the product of the whole 
world. The entire population of several German towns find employ- 
ment in filling his orders. When he makes his bargain every Spring 
it means bread and butter to them for another year. His transactions 
in glassware, pottery and crockery are also colossal. The hundred- 
and one little things needed for the home and office, including notions, 
fixtures, dry goods, stationary, pictures, kitchen utensils, table ware, 
toys, jewelry, trinkets, etc., come and go to his various establishments 
in carload lots. Of candies alone his stores dispose of over 6,000 tons 
every year! 



THE MIGHTINESS OF THE MITE. 165 

Wool worth was able to stick it out long enough to 
graduate. He then secured employment as a dry 
goods clerk with Moore & Smith in the same city. 
It cost him $3.50 per week for board, and he got 
no pay for the first three months. After that he 
made just enough to pay his board-bill. He remained 
six years in the Watertown store and never got more 
than $10 per week. Mr. Woolworth says he can see now 
as he looks back that he was not then worth anything 
more. Yet out of his $10 per week he married and lived 
and managed to save $50 a year.* It was a long ap- 
prenticeship and he might still have been behind the 
counter if he had not acted on the Five Cent Store idea, 
that came to him when working for others. Then, al- 
though at first it did not pay, adding the ten cent line 
eventually doubled the usefulness and profitableness of 
the business. One wonders why the stock could not be 
advantageously enlarged in multiples of five and ten 
cents to the value of a dollar, but Mr. Woolworth evi- 
dently acts on the ''live and let live" principle, and is 
satisfied with his modest commercial corner. 

In a recent interview he said he thought those only 
could succeed who made a pleasure of their business— 
that is to say, who labored in a congenial field. He al- 
ways had a hankering for merchandizing. He also is 
of the opinion that thrift is a potent factor, and he ad- 
vises every young man to save. He has always man- 
aged to lay aside at least one fourth of his income. 
Finally he declares it is a mistake to despise small be- 
ginnings. His own overwhelming success makes one 
believe that the merchant who can get the loose change 
of the million does not take long to own the fat check- 
book of the mighty millionaire. 

* His wife was a dressmaker, however, and earned more than he did 
at that time. " To her," he says, " as much as to anything else I at- 
tribute my success in life." She was a Miss Jennie Creighton. Their 
union has been blessed with three daughters — Helena, Edna and Jessie. 
They all display marked musical talent. 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND.* 

It was surprising to me how few people I questioned 
knew anything about Lancaster, even after I had crossed 
the Scottish border and was within a short distance of 
the place. On the last stretch of railroad travel I suc- 
ceeded in getting some vague idea of the place from a 
fellow-passenger. Accurately speaking, Lancaster town 
(it is not a city) is situated on the south bank of the 
River Lune, 21 miles north of Preston, 73 miles south 
of Carlisle, 52 miles northwest of Manchester, 50 miles 
north of Liverpool and 232 miles from London. It has 
railway connections with the London and Northwest- 
ern Railway and with the Midland Railway. The area 
of the town is 3,610 acres, the population 40,329, and the 
rateable value £180,395. Its chief attractions to a 
stranger are the Castle, the Parish Church, the Wil- 
liamson Park and the Storey Institute. 

To give even a fair idea of the Castle would take a 
good-sized volume. Its origin is lost in obscurity. We 
know positively that the Romans, under Agricola, A. D. 
79, had a camp here. Some of the Roman buildings 
still stand, and Roman relics innumerable are turned 
up almost every year. After Roman occupancy Lan- 
caster Castle had many tenants, the great overshadow- 
ing name connected with it being John o' Gaunt, Duke 
of Lancaster. A statue of this Duke is placed on a 
niche over the entrance of the gateway tower, and the 
place where his horse cast a shoe— now at the crossing 
of four streets— is yet marked by a horseshoe, which is 
carefully renewed as often as needed. John o' Gaunt 
pennies are still to be had in Lancaster and are con- 



* A series of Letters to the Editor of The New Era, Lancaster, Pa., 
U. S. A. 

166 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 167 

sidered valuable relics. I cannot now go into the later 
history of the Castle, except to say that it had more 
than the usual share of sieges and captures. Since the 
Jacobite rising of 1745 the Castle has not suffered an 
attack from any enemy, and it remains to-day in ex- 
cellent condition, still used as the town and county jail, 
and containing the Courts for the administration of 
justice and adjustment of all important local disputes. 

The Castle is shown to visitors, for a fee, except dur- 
ing the week of the Assizes, and, as luck would have it, 
I happened to come here that week. My friends at- 
tempted to console me by the fact that I should see a 
greater show in the Assizes than in a tour through the 
Castle, but I decided, if possible, to enjoy both. Appli- 
cation at the Judge's lodgings was met by a polite re- 
fusal. "The rule was never known to be broken— no 
one could make a tour of the Castle while the Assizes 
were being held. Visitors from Africa, New Zealand 
and America had been refused, etc." This did not 
trouble me much, as I knew I had influence at London 
that would open the doors for me, but hesitated to invoke 
it until all local efforts failed. I was recommended to 
state my case to E. B. Dawson, Esq., of Aldcliffe Hall, 
the Chairman of the Magisterial Bench here, and out of 
a thousand Justices of the Peace for Lancashire, one of 
the twelve persons permitted to visit all parts of the 
Castle. 

I found Mr. Dawson a particularly nice gentleman, 
and he not only secured me the desired permit, but gave 
me the privilege of a seat in the Grand Jury box during 
the Assizes and extended other courtesies that were ex- 
ceedingly helpful and pleasant to me. He gave me 
information that no ordinary guide could have furnished 
and enabled me to thoroughly appreciate what I was 
seeing. 

The Assizes this week were very heavy, so the Judge 



168 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

sat as late as 7 :30 p. m. and, to help the Court to see, tal- 
low candles were brought in, and the same candlesticks 
used that were used when the rebels were tried in 1746 ! 
This can never occur again, as the electric light is to be 
introduced, so Mr. Dawson said I had the opportunity 
of seeing something that would not happen any more in 
the town 's or the Castle 's history. 

Americans would be amused at the pomp and magnifi- 
cence of the Assizes. The Judge, in his scarlet, ermine- 
trimmed robe, is attended by the High Sheriff of the 
county, also gorgeous in crimson and gold. In attend- 
ance on the High Sheriff is his substitute (in black court 
dress), his chaplain, his twelve javelin men, state-coach, 
coachman, two flunkeys and two trumpeters, all in daz- 
zling uniform. It seems that the High Sheriff is elected 
for only one year ; he gets no salary, but the expenses of 
the office cost him from £10,000 (the smallest amount 
he can make do) to as high as he cares to go, and £20,- 
000, or $100,000, is a fair average. A gentleman of this 
town of Lancaster, on being made High Sheriff, gave a 
dinner that is said to have cost $35,000, and many have 
told me that this great sum was below the actual figure. 
On the other hand those who should know say it is a 
gross exaggeration— so we'll let it go at that! 

No seats are provided for spectators at the Courts, so, 
if one does not care to stand— unless favored, as I was, 
by a friend— there is nothing to do but mix with the 
rabble and stick it out as long as you can. On a par 
with the candles, I noticed that the Judge took full notes 
of all the proceedings in longhand, no Court stenog- 
rapher being employed. Such idiotic stupidity is 
utterly inexplicable. The poor man was condemned to 
the worst drudgery of any one there, and, as a proof that 
he was not infallible, in more than one instance, his 
memory served him better than his notes. The juries 
did not waste any time in reaching their verdicts, and 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 169 

with all the painful slowness of the note-taking, I must 
confess, the despatch of business was remarkable. 

Two other good friends I had in Court that I may do 
well to mention now. The first was the dignified Mayor 
of the town, Colonel R. Inglis Hall, who, but for his 
years, might pass anywhere for Lord Roberts. Mr. 
Hall was exceedingly kind to me, and put himself con- 
siderably about to get information for me. At the 
Town Hall he showed me the valuable insignia of his 
office, and even put the Mayor 's robe on me, remarking 
that it was a perfect fit!"' I was then shown the prin- 
cipal charters of the town, and noted, among others, the 
signatures of Queen Elizabeth and King John. The 
courteous Beadle and Mace-Bearer, Mr. Jackson, who 
has held office for many years, took me through the 
garret of the Town Hall, out on to the very coping, to 
give me the finest-known view of Lancaster Castle. On 
our way back we saw old town charter chests, blood- 
stained banners and keys of a period running back to a 
time before the date when Columbus discovered Amer- 
ica. The Mayor took me to his home to tea and dinner, 
and a most enjoyable evening was spent looking over as 
fine an English house as it has been my good fortune 
to see. Colonel Hall is an architect by profession, so, 
naturally, would have only the very best for himself. 
He is a widower, his accomplished daughter having 
acted as Lady Mayoress. His household affairs are 
managed by his charming sister. 

The other friend I had near me in Court was Mr. T. 
Cann Hughes, M.A., F.S.A., Town Clerk. He acts as 
prosecutor for the local cases, wearing on occasion a wig 
and gown like the rest of the barristers. At his home, 
where I took tea, I met his dear old mother, consider- 
ably over eighty, but as bright as a coronation shilling. 

* I was also most fortunate in getting a fine Lancaster coronation 
medal, the last of the supply specially designed and minted for the town. 



170 HEKE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

Mr. Hughes had many curios to show me, as in his time 
he or his mother have met such eminent people as 
Lowell, Emerson, Eggleston, Kingsley, etc. Perhaps 
the greatest surprise was to be shown a German Bible 
that had once belonged to Martin Luther. His name 
is on it in his own handwriting, and all through the book 
are alterations, corrections, notes, etc., in the hand of the 
great reformer. 

The Parish Church of Lancaster, England, is "St. 
Mary's Church." It consists of nave and chancel and 
western tower, and looks well under the immediate 
shadow of the grim old castle. Existing relics prove 
that St. Mary 's Church is on the site of a former chapel 
of great antiquity. It is mentioned in historical records 
as far back as 1094. Much of its later life is bound up 
with the history of the castle. Thic is the building 
where all the high dignitaries, local and visiting, are 
officially " churched." Charles Dickens once spent a 
holiday in Lancaster, and said it was "a gallant sight to 
see the Sunday procession of the Lancaster Corporation 
to Church, under the escort of three beadles ! ' ' 

Before Justice Sir Eichard Jelf commenced the 
Assizes this week he and the High Sheriff and all their 
retinue visited the sacred edifice, where a special service 
was conducted for them. Sermons have often been 
preached in St. Mary's to the rattle of the soldiers' 
steel. George Fox, the founder of the Society of 
Friends, tried to deliver a sermon there, but was 
ignominiously hauled out and stoned along the street. 
He afterwards had a taste of the Lancaster Castle Dun- 
geon Tower— spent a whole long winter in it, poor 
man, exposed to cold and rain, and nearly suffocated 
by the smoke of the other prisoners, cruelly directed 
into his cell. A Rev. Mr. Paul, minister of St. Mary's 
in 1715, was so foolish as to rule out from the Book of 
Common Prayer the names of King George and the 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 171 

other members of his family, and substitute King 
James and his royal relations, and to pray for the Pre- 
tender and his family. Three days later the Jacobites 
surrendered at Preston (nearby), and the following 
summer Mr. Paul was hanged at Tyburn. If my mem- 
ory serves me, we had as stubborn a case at our own 
English church in Lancaster, Pa.— although exactly the 
reverse in sentiment— a Rev. Mr. Barton refusing to 
desist praying for the King, although our Republic was 
an established and recognized fact, and suffering ban- 
ishment rather than recant. 

About thirty years after Mr. Paul's fatal lapse here 
the Jacobites tried their luck again, and one of the 
officers of the rebel army played on the Lancaster 
church organ ' ' The King Shall Have His Own Again ! ' ' 
But that attempt also ended in failure, and since then 
no disloyal voice or note has profaned the lovely church. 
Interiorly, the building has almost the stateliness of a 
cathedral. Its windows are filled with rich stained- 
glass, and some of its arches are distinguished by great 
profusion of detail. The date of the pulpit now in use 
is 1619. From the chancel arch hang regimental colors 
that have seen many bloody battles. The greatest fea- 
ture of the church, I was told, was the beautiful canopies 
of the stalls at the east end. They are most elaborate 
specimens of the wood-carver 's art and of the era of the 
twelfth century. The monuments in the church are 
many, but I saw no famous name. There is a very in- 
teresting epitaph on Thomas Covell, who was keeper of 
the castle at the time of the trial of the Lancashire 
Witches, and one of their victims. The feature I per- 
sonally liked best about the church was its peal of bells 
— only eight, I believe— but most musical and always 
welcome. 

The next place I shall tell you about is "The Wil- 
liamson Park. ' ' Does the name not sound familiar to a 



172 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Lancastrian 1 ? The park is named after its donor, the 
late Alderman Williamson, father of the present Lord 
Ashton— by some irreverently styled "Lord Linoleum," 
in reference to his business, located here, and said to be 
1 ' the biggest of its kind in the world. ' ' Did it ever occur 
to you how many places do contain such exhibits ? either 
"the finest," "the grandest," "the biggest," "the most 
unique, " " unequalled, ' ' etc. It is really too difficult to 
find a locality without some such distinction. In all my 
travels I try to come upon some obscure place with no 
pretensions to such claims, but no ! They all have some- 
thing. Do I not say myself that our own town has two 
such crowns — our big umbrella factory and our still 
bigger cocoa and caramel establishment? And so I 
found Lancaster, England, was not behind with the 
biggest oil cloth works in the world ! 

Things at last got to such a pitch that I asked, what is 
the matter with my own native parish? Surely it has 
some peculiar distinction? Well, it is the birthplace of 
Dr. Robertson Nicoll, our leading nonconformist, and 
the discoverer and successful exploiter of Barrie, Mc- 
Laren, Crockett, Annie S. Swan and many more shin- 
ing lights. That is about enough glory for one little 
place. But hold ! It is also the birthplace of Sir Alex- 
ander Reid, the son of my old parish minister. And 
what did he do ? Listen ! At the Boxer uprising he had 
under his command the armies of eight different nations 
—Americans, Germans, French, British, and as many 
more. This never fell to the lot of mortal man before 
and probably will never happen again. It secured him 
his knighthood and a generalship as well. So hurrah 
for Auchindoir ! But all this by the way. 

The Williamson Park (comprising about 40 acres) 
was twenty years ago a barren moor, honey-combed with 
deep and dangerous quarries. It was then that Mr. 
Williamson bought it and proceeded at his own expense 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 173 

to convert it into a park. His estimate of cost was 
$55,000, but after his death his sons set aside $25,000 
more, and this was further increased by his son, Lord 
Ashton, so that the park was presented finished to the 
town, with a maintenance fund of £10,000, or £50,000, 
in addition, to make it free for all time and to insure that 
it will be properly cared for. For beauty of situation it 
is unsurpassed in England. It overlooks the town, and 
on a clear day the scenery visible from any part of it is 
of indescribable beauty, embracing every variety of 
landscape and water view. Flowers and shrubs are 
everywhere in profusion; fairy grottoes and miniature 
lakes; rustic seats and sheltered walks— everything that 
art and nature can do may here be seen to perfection.* 

On one of its highest plateaus the Greg Observatory 
is located. It was built by the Corporation of Lancaster 
to preserve and put to use the fine instruments of Mr. 
Greg, of Escowbeck, Canton, near by. The present 
astronomer is the Rev. Mr. Bone, the Vicar of St. 
Thomas. I happened to be present when he was testing 
the clocks by the sun's transit at meridian. He ex- 
plained every step to me with great care and patience, 
showing me how the calculations were made and trans- 
posed to Greenwich time. He found the Sidereal clock 
was 22.47 seconds fast ; it had even then lost ten seconds 
since October 3; that is, in thirty-three days. His 
Greenwich clock was twenty-two seconds fast. My own 
good, never- failing Hamilton watch (made in Lancaster, 
Pa.), which I have not altered since I landed in Glas- 
gow, the end of July, showed less than three seconds 
fast— a marvelous record, Mr. Bone said, and a watch 
to treasure, which I certainly do, and feel grateful that 



* Since this was written Mr. H. S. Williamson has presented " Wil- 
liamson Park " to Lancaster Pa. — a fine tract easy of access to the 
city and situated on the banks of the Conestoga, near General Hand's 
historic mansion. 

13 



174 HEKE AND THEBE IN" TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

I own. I have also been told it is pretty fair proof that 
the wearer's habits are not much out of gear, as good 
watches are quick to resent bad treatment. 

Now, a word for the Storey Institute. This was the 
jubilee gift of Sir Thomas Storey, four times Mayor 
of Lancaster. It comprises the Free Library and Bead- 
ing Eoom, the nucleus of a Museum, School of Science 
and School of Art, and classes (day and evening) for 
technical and domestic instruction are held within its 
walls. The Art Gallery has several paintings of merit, 
and the work of the art students, as exemplified in book 
covers, posters and book-marks, as well as commercial 
designs, I found to be particularly good. There is a 
window with excellent specimens of modern stained- 
glass, and in the corridors are busts of four of Lancas- 
ter's great men, viz.: Sir Richard Owen, Dr. Whewell 
(Master of Trinity), Sir Wm. Turner and Sir Robert 
Rawlinson. This means of Lancaster town, for if Lan- 
caster county's great men were to be so displayed it 
would take every room of the Storey Institute to fit- 
tingly display them. In my ignorance, I confess, until 
I came here, it never occurred to me that Liverpool was 
in Lancashire— one of her pet babies. So W. E. Glad- 
stone was a Lancashire lad by birth, just as our own 
George Washington was by ancestry. 

One of the first things that impresses a stranger in 
Lancaster, England, is the narrowness of some of the 
streets. Charles Dickens, in referring to them, said 
that one wished to have a pole to push them back a bit, 
to give more room and breathing space. High walls I 
found to be another feature peculiar to the old town. 
There are no very high buildings, but some might safely 
be described as stately, and the bulk of them I should 
say are modern. 

Lancaster was, for centuries, in a transition stage all 
the time. The Scots would swoop down on the people, 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 175 

and they would flee to Preston, or some place nearby, 
returning to find their town plundered, and often great 
parts of it destroyed. Their English ' ' friends ' ' would 
complete the havoc by punishing them still more for not 
standing out against the northern enemy, so, between 
English and Scotch, poor Lancaster had a sad and sorry 
time of it. To many it is a surprise why Lancaster has 
not grown bigger, as she might easily have been of as 
much importance commercially as Manchester is to-day. 
They are talking of trolleys, but so far only a horse-car 
line is to be seen, and it is more for the benefit of pas- 
sengers to and from Morecambe, a fashionable watering 
place near, than it is of advantage to Lancaster town. 

Every second house seems to be an inn or hotel of 
some kind, but whether all are in active operation or not 
I cannot say. They have no less than three "Blue 
Anchor Inns," but two "Black Horse Inns" seem to 
suffice them. Amongst peculiar names of hostelries I 
noticed "The Bear and Staff," "Boar's Head," Fox 
and Goose," "Nag's Head," "The Plough" (just ex- 
piring), "The Wheat Sheaf," and "Eing o' Bells." 
Mr. Richard Shaw is not ashamed to proclaim that he 
runs ' ' The Fleece Inn, ' ' so, if anything happens in the 
way of an overcharge, "Oh, Pshaw!" may take on a 
new meaning. Another odd sign is "The Fat Scot," 
and this I had to investigate. It took some time to find 
the explanation, but I succeeded. The name is a sur- 
vival of the big cattle market days, when fat Scotch 
cattle were brought to Lancaster for sale, and an enter- 
prising Boniface decided it would make a good card 
for him, so he nailed ' ' The Fat Scot ' ' to his mast, and 
the flag has been kept flying there ever since. The most 
noted inn formerly was ' ' The King 's Arms, ' ' but much 
of its prestige is gone, although it is still an excellent 
house. At present the leading caravansary is unques- 
tionably "The County Hotel." Mr. Ducksbury, who 



176 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

manages it, came from the "King's Arms," and is de- 
scended from a long line of eminent hotel men. 

Lancaster, England, worries along with about 25 
solicitors ' firms, employing about 40 lawyers in all. It 
has 19 surgeons and physicians, and its banking offices 
number three. It does not support a single local daily 
paper, although dailies with local news circulate in it. 
Three newspapers are published once a week, and curi- 
ously enough (very stupidly, too, it seems to me) all are 
published on a Friday. I found, however, this to be the 
rule in most towns that only had weekly papers. All 
were invariably issued on the same day, the people be- 
lieving, evidently, in a big feast to make up for a long 
fast. Amongst curious trades here I observed "Fell- 
mongers" (which turned out to be dealers in skins), 
"Fent Dealers" (dealers in remnants), and "Grindery 
Dealers" (which means traders in shoemakers' and 
saddlers' hardware). The Ubiquitous Cycle Eepairer 
is also here, and seeing the name "Posthlethwaite" over 
such a shop, in memory of ' ' Posthlethwhaite 's Tavern, ' ' 
of our old time Lancaster, I stepped in and interviewed 
Mr. P. He was a fine, obliging fellow, a native of an 
adjoining county, but said the name was local to the dis- 
trict. He kindly presented me with an enamelled badge 
of the Lancaster Cycle Club, showing the municipal 
coat of arms, as a souvenir of my call.* He handled 
graphophones and phonographs, but said the business 
was temporarily down, as some fellows had just made 
a raid from London and were selling such machines far 
below cost and taking care to clean out before any 
repairs were needed. There are several firms in Lan- 
caster devoted to the manufacture of stained glass, and 
all have the very highest reputation. A concern calling 

* I have since had the pleasure of passing it on to Mr. D. B. Landis, 
the Chief L. A. W. Consul for our district and one of our most en- 
thusiastic cyclists. 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 177 

itself the Eembrandt Artistic Printing Company manu- 
factures copies of noted paintings that are given away 
as premiums with magazines. This firm must have 
Scotch blood in it, as it has "an unco guid conceit o' 
itseiy' judging from some of its business methods that 
came under my notice, and specimens of its work that I 
was later permitted to see. I cannot pretend to do more 
than mention such famous old commercial houses as the 
Williamsons, the Gillows, the Storeys, the Sewards, the 
Gilchrists, etc. They would be an honor to any town 
and continue to set the pace for all comers in their re- 
spective lines. 

To see a Lancaster, England, crowd in the streets no 
great contrast is noticeable between it and our own. 
To mix among the people, their dialect, to say the least, 
is as pleasant and easily understood as our Pennsyl- 
vania German. The most notable difference is in their 
footgear, the English lads and lassies being for the most 
part shod in clogs that make a most curious clattering 
sound on the streets. I have picked up some choice 
specimens of Lancaster wit and humor that I may have 
an opportunity later on to show to the folks on the banks 
of the Conestoga. The shops are, as a rule, small and 
abominably lighted, but in this respect Lancaster is only 
like all other British towns and cities I have been in. 
American buyers simply would not stand it, but here it 
has always been the same, so the natives accept it with- 
out murmur or comment. 

On New street I noticed the name, ' ' Shand, florist and 
seedsman, ' ' and feeling in my bones he must be related 
to my friend of The New York Store, Lancaster, Pa., I 
marched in and interviewed him. He was from "Aber- 
deen awa',' ' and after a little family history he believed 
he could safely claim kinship to the Lancaster, Pa., mer- 
chant, so sent with his compliments a sweet floral greet- 
ing to his "American cousin." I found Mr. Shand to 



178 HEBE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

be a wide-awake merchant, doing business all over the 
British Isles. 

Lancaster is well supplied with shops that sell books, 
magazines, souvenirs, etc., and has one first-class sec- 
ond-hand book store of the highest grade, conducted by 
Mr. West, a gentleman of culture and the right kind 
of local pride. Mr. Stanton, a hosier, has a perfect col- 
lection of Lancaster coins, medals and tokens. He has 
every known issue of the famous John o' Gaunt coins, 
a collection that in itself would make the fortune of any 
dealer. He has early issues of the Washingtonian cent, 
but, better than that, a large Washington medal,* struck 
by a Lancastrian, who personally knew Washington in 
America, and who has left an account of his impressions 
of him. In this note— which I saw— the writer refers 
to the Conewago Indians, so Lancaster came pretty near 
Lancaster that time. And, above all, was not our first 
President himself of Lancashire stock? 

What did I find out at Warton, about six miles from 
Lancaster? First of all, there is the church and church- 
yard. On the wall of the former may be seen the Wash- 
ington coat of arms, with its stars and stripes, which 
eventually evolved into our "Star-Spangled Banner." 
The panel is now enclosed in a glass case, to prevent the 
elements from gradually defacing and destroying it. 
For a long time the sculpture was covered over with 
"harling," and only came to light in recent years, when 
the plaster fell away. From its position it proves that 
the Washingtons were people of importance in the 

* Our local numismatist of international fame, Mr. Chas. F. Steiger- 
walt, has a fine specimen of this rarity, as he has also a surprisingly 
fine collection of Lancaster tokens. Mr. Stanton, of Lancaster, England, 
showed me an eighteenth century coin, with a bust of "Georgeios Wash- 
ington," and on the reverse side a harp under a crown, marked " North 
Wales," and lettered around the edge, "Payable in Lancaster, London, 
or Bristol." He also had a Liverpool half-penny, issued in 1794, with 
a bust of " Washington, President, 1791." 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 179 

parish. Their history here is well known and trace- 
able to George Washington without any hiatus, or miss- 
ing link, or doubtful connection. Against the church 
wall facing the entrance from the street may be seen a 
grave stone to the memory of Elizabeth Washington, 
who died in 1751. Up the village I came upon Bishop 
Hutton's school, that the Washington youths certainly 
attended. The present building is dated 1594, and is 
soon to be abandoned, a new school being now in process 
of erection. The Red Lion Inn belongs to the same 
period. Near the old school is "The Washington 
House," bearing the date of 1612. It is noted for its 
tremendously thick walls and solid oak interior fixtures. 
The Washingtons lived here, and there is all about the 
place such an air of antiquity it would have seemed 
quite natural to have met one of the old bewigged gentle- 
men so familiar to us from their well-known portraits. 
In the church there are lots of oak carvings dating from 
1600 or thereabout, but the place has been "restored" 
and much of the bygone interest obliterated. Few 
Americans go to Warton, as up to date its connection 
with Washington is not well known, but the interest will 
grow and without doubt it will become, as it deserves to 
be, one of the most noted of American shrines. 

Lancaster was known to the Romans as "Aluna, " or 
"Ad Aluna" or "Alaunum, " meaning, probably, "The 
white river." White cliffs are still prominent on the 
banks of the Lune, and the descriptive name fits in well 
to-day. ' ' Lune ' ' in time became corrupted to ' ' Loyn, ' ' 
then "Lon, " and, finally, in conjunction with "castre" 
( a camp ) , changed to ' ' Lancaster. ' ' The chief officials of 
the present Lancaster in England good-naturedly took 
me to task for referring to their Lancaster as "a city," 
claiming it is only a town or borough, and, of course, I 
acquiesced in the correction for the time being, but was 
not convinced that they were right. With more leisure, 



180 HERB AND THERE IF TWO HEMISPHERES. 

I have looked up the matter carefully, and, notwith- 
standing the opinions of ray learned civic friends on the 
banks of the Lune, I think the title of "city" cannot be 
denied to our Old England namesake. The term ' ■ city ' ' 
was introduced in the time of the Norman Conquest, the 
derivation being from "Civitas," and it is not restricted 
to episcopal towns. It simply applies to whatever is 
subject to municipal government, and is actually syn- 
onymous with ' ' burgh. ' ' In 1072, a great Church Coun- 
cil decided (to settle the claims of two rival Arch- 
bishops) that Bishops' sees should be transferred from 
towns to cities, and since then many writers have in- 
sisted that cathedral towns only can be called cities, but 
even from the decision referred to, it can be seen that 
cities existed before the sees were transferred to them. 
In this country we happily have no ecclesiastical dis- 
tinctions, and our own little Lancaster (just about the 
size and population of Lancaster in England, by the 
way) has never hesitated to declare itself a city, nor 
failed to be recognized as such the whole country over. 
Mr. Cross Fleury, who has made a special study of the 
history and antiquities of Lancaster, England, is of the 
opinion that his borough is justly entitled to be called a 
city, and I am pleased to note that he also gives his 
sanction to the phrase, "Time-honored Lancaster," 
which we all know was originally applied to John o' 
Gaunt, but by long usage has been extended to the 
place. 

Lancaster, England, is known to many of us as a 
county Palatine— a distinction also enjoyed by Durham 
and Chester ; and Eossshire has frequently been called 
the County Palatine of Scotland. Blackstone says, 
Counties Palatine are so called "because the owners 
thereof had in those counties jura regalia as fully as the 
King had in his palace. ' ' The origin of the name goes 
back to Mons Palatums in Eome, the chief officer of the 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 181 

imperial household being an Earl or Count Palatine, 
whose palace stood on one of the hills near the Tiber. 
In France the Count Palatine was foremost of the 
twelve peers of that empire, and his palatinate land was 
the rich Rhine valley above Frankfort. Canon Taylor 
notes that ''it is one of the curiosities of language that 
a pretty little hill-slope in Italy should have transferred 
its name to a hero of romance, to a German State, to 
three English counties, to a glass house at Sydenham 
(Crystal Palace), and to all the royal residences in 
Europe." It is also in evidence in every "palatial" 
home in the New "World, not to mention the Pullman 
and Wagner "palace" cars, that are considered none 
too good for Uncle Sam's royal Republicans. WTien 
a great orator referred to our own Lancaster county as 
an Empire in itself —a State within a State— he realized 
that our domain was entitled to be called preeminently 
the County Palatine of this country, and recent statistics 
show that it continues to hold the honor of being the 
richest agricultural county in the United States. 

In writing of George Washington's connection with 
Lancaster, England, I referred to Warton, about seven 
miles from Lancaster town. In St. Mary's Church- 
yard, Lancaster, there is a tombstone to the memory of 
Matthew Washington, who died in 1729, and no doubt 
he was kin to the Warton Washington. For the benefit 
of my younger readers, I may say that in the reign of 
Henry VIII. Lawrence Washington left Warton, Lan- 
cashire, and settled in Northampton, of which town he 
was Mayor in 1502. Eventually he located at Sul- 
grave. ■ His greatgrandson, the Rev. Lawrence Wash- 
ington, rector of Purleigh, had two sons, John and Law- 
rence Washington, who emigrated to America in 1657. 
The elder of these two sons was the great-grandfather 
of our immortal George Washington, the first President 
of the United States. As recently as February 7, 1823, 



182 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

a Eev. Thomas Washington died, and was buried at 
Warton, so no place across the sea is more identified 
with "The Father of His Country" than Lancaster; 
and to us, here, it is surely of special interest, since the 
great Washington was several times in our city, and 
once celebrated his "Fourth of July" here. 

Again, for my younger readers, I wish to say a little 
more about John o' Gaunt and his tribe. John of 
Gaunt, Earl of Richmond, was fourth son of Edward 
III., and succeeded to the Duchy of Lancaster by virtue 
of his marriage to Blanche, daughter of Henry, the first 
Duke of Lancaster. By his second marriage with Con- 
stance, daughter of Peter, King of Castile, John of 
Gaunt for some time enjoyed the title of "King of 
Leon and Castile." One of his intimate friends was 
WyclirTe. This John o ' Gaunt lived in great splendor, 
equal almost to the King of England, and he did much 
in improving Lancaster town and Lancaster Castle. 

He was called ' ' John of Gaunt ' ' because he was born 
in the town of Ghent or Gaunt, in Belgium, but he was 
gaunt by nature as well as by name. All his lifetime 
he had his eye on the English throne, yet his oppor- 
tunity to strike for it never came. His son, however, 
deposing Richard, assumed the crown, and became 
Henry IV., the first of the Lancastrian family to attain 
to the highest royal English honors. 

Who has not heard of the Wars of the Roses'? and 
who cannot tell something about the Red Rose of Lan- 
caster and the White Rose of York? Strange that York 
and Lancaster should be again found side by side in the 
New World! In the "Wars of the Roses" nearly 100,- 
000 Englishmen perished, including three Kings, many 
Princes, over three-score of noblemen of the highest 
rank, and knights, 'squires and gentry too numerous to 
be counted. It was a costly business, but ending feu- 
dalism, as it did, the sacrifice was not made in vain. 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 183 

One of the amusing things connected with this period 
was the conduct of the gentlemen "on the fence." 
Every house had its decoration of red rose or white 
over the door, to symbolize the political creed of the 
owner or resident; but not a few hung up a red rose 
at one entrance and a white rose at the other, and after 
parleying with a stranger at the gate would select the 
door that agreed with his opinions ! No open neutrality 
was permitted, but a way was thus found out of the 
difficulty. Rather queerly, Lancaster escaped being the 
scene of any battles or disturbance during this long 
war, but much of her best blood was spilled in the strug- 
gle for supremacy. 

While Lancaster has no Cathedral, her parish church 
—St. Mary's— (to revert to it again)— is finer than 
many ecclesiastical structures that have been given the 
higher title. The "living" is worth $9,000 per an- 
num, so that the minister, if he gets it all, can feel sure 
of three good meals a day.* St. Mary's enjoyed and 
exercised "the privilege of sanctuary." This was a 
little arrangement of William the Conqueror's, the 
honor being conferred sparingly. The charter given 
by him generally read : "If any thief, or murderer, or 
person guilty of any other crime, fly for fear of death, 
and come to this church, let him have no harm, but be 
freely dismissed." This privilege held good until 
abolished by James I., who did not take kindly to such 
seats of sinners and such "centres of sin."t 

* " Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the earth " — in coffins ! 

j- Certainly, some of the sovereigns had strange notions about their 
powers, and James I. was no exception. When I was shown through 
Lancaster Castle I was told that I was taken where King Edward 
himself could not go! This was news to me, and how do you 
think my guide proved his case? He said I should see the prison- 
ers, which the King would not be allowed to see, unless he wished 
to make a general jail deliverance! Still I did not understand, so it 
was explained to me that so much benignity, mercy, clemency, liberty 
and all the super-excellent virtues beamed from the countenance of the 



184 HERE AND THERE IN" -TWO HEMISPHERES. 

While noting such curiosities of belief, I may as well 
refer here to some other Lancaster notions, customs and 
incidents that made more than an ordinary impression 
on me. I have been reading the pros and cons of the 
prize-fighting controversy now raging in our local col- 
umns, and it suggested telling you something of the 
ordinary sports of good old Lancaster in "the good old 
times." It was quite a common thing for schoolmas- 
ters to encourage cock-fighting at the schools. The 
scholars furnished the funds— "cock-pennies"— and 
the teacher supplied the cocks or hens and presided 
over the "sport." It was not even so fair a game as 
a fight between two birds. Only one bird was used, 
tied to a stake by a short cord, and the boys, from a 
distance of twenty yards or so, threw clubs or cudgels 
at the poor, helpless chicken until they battered the life 
out of it. "Threshing the hen" was another Shrove- 
tide brutality. A live hen was tied to the back of some 
man, decorated with horsebells, which jingled at every 
motion he made. The threshers were blindfolded and, 
following the sound of the bells, threshed away at the 
hen and the man, and at each other. Amusing, but not 
offensive, was the custom of watchmen announcing the 

King or flowed from the flash of his eyes, that the moment he saw a 
prisoner, that moment the prisoner was free! King Edward dare not 
look on a jail-bird, for instantly the fetters would fall, the prison 
doors would swing open and the happy man would walk out to free- 
dom! As proof that the legend was still believed the visit of Queen 
Victoria to Lancaster was recalled. When she held Court there, so that 
she might not pass or see any of the prisoners, a hole was knocked 
through the castle wall, and she reached the hall by a covered walk from 
the Castle Green. The case of the first Scotch King, Jamie, was also 
cited. He met a malefactor on his way to Tyburn to be hanged, and 
because the King happened to look at the wretch his pardon was im- 
mediately granted. That Englishman, I am sure, ever after had his 
own meaning of the phrase, " Scot free," and no doubt felt grateful to 
the Prince who loved mercy more than judgment. It's a pretty idea, 
and is probably founded on the priestly theory of " Look and Live." 
The State clergy were always ready to advance and extend the " divine 
rights " of Kings. 



LANCASTEK IN ENGLAND. 185 

hours of the night by imitating the crowing of a cock. 
Fancy a man having to stand up in the street at mid- 
night and "cock-a-doodle-doo" a round dozen times! 
This was in vogue up to the time of George I. 

A more serious thing to see was a Lancastrian taking 
his wife to the "Horse-shoe Corner," with a halter 
'round her neck, and exposing her for sale to the highest 
bidder. Hundreds have been sold as chattels in this 
manner. Prices ran from fifteen cents to a quarter, 
competition never being very keen. These were white 
women, understand, belonging to the district, and the 
practice was so common as to cause no comment. Lan- 
caster did her share in the big black slave trade, too— 
no less than fourteen vessels sailing at one time from 
her port, all engaged in trafficking in human lives. 
There is a tradition in the town that a Lancastrian, 
Captain Marshall, stole a Guinea King's daughter, and 
this put an end to any further dealings with him or his 
fellow citizens. 

In the City Hall loft I saw the pillory that was once 
in common use everywhere. In 1803 a man was pil- 
loried in this instrument and found dead in bed next 
morning. The jury that "sat on him" gave as its ver- 
dict, "Visitation of God." In 1817 three men were 
executed in Lancaster Castle for a crime of which they 
were afterwards found to be innocent. They protested 
their guiltlessness, and believed that Providence would 
interpose in their behalf. After much praying, one of 
them commenced to sing, "Happy the Man Whose 
Hopes Rely on Israel 's God, ' ' when the bolt was drawn 
and the poor creatures were hurled into eternity. This 
was popularly declared to be a "Visitation of the 
Devil," and it took about twelve months for the public 
indignation to cool off. Twenty-five years later the real 
criminal, on his death-bed, confessed the truth prior to 
securing personal salvation, but how the souls of the 



186 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

departed fared neither Coroner nor Kirk deigned to 
say. 

Lancaster has always had an unenviable notoriety in 
regard to its Courts, its prisons and its punishments. 
In the dock of the Crown Court of Lancaster Castle 
more prisoners have been sentenced to death than in 
any other Court in the United Kingdom. This is partly 
accounted for by the fact that until recent times the 
Assizes at Lancaster Town were the Assizes for the 
whole shire of Lancaster, the most populous county in 
the British Isles. In this very dock I saw the branding 
iron by which malefactors had the letter " M " branded 
on their hands. The iron was made red-hot and ap- 
plied by the brander in the presence of the Judge and 
spectators, the operation being generally concluded by 
the announcement, ' ' Fair mark, my Lord. ' ' Years ago 
it was customary to order prisoners on trial to "show 
their hands, ' ' to note if there had been a previous con- 
viction against them. Between 1799 and 1890 no less 
than 228 persons were executed in Lancaster Castle. 
Old and young found their way into the jail, such ex- 
tremes among prisoners as a nonagenarian and a child 
between two and three years of age being actual, re- 
corded facts. Tragedy and comedy are also inter- 
mingled in the story of the place. 

In August, 1612, something like twenty persons, two 
of whom were women over eighty years of age, faced 
trial for witchcraft at the Lancaster Assize before 
Judge Sir Edward Bromley. One of the old ladies, 
Mrs. Demdike, made no secret of the fact that she had 
sold herself to the devil, and was on familiar terms with 
his Satanic Majesty. This "Granny" also admitted 
that the reason she carried on such doings was because 
Beelzebub had promised in return to give her "any- 
thing she wanted." Old Ann Whittle, another widow 
of four-score, confessed that she had bewitched a man's 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 187 

drink, placed a bad wish on another man who soon 
thereafter died, and had— climax of all— made quite a 
quantity of butter from a small dish of skimmed milk ! 
It was greatly against her that she was seen to mumble 
continually to herself when at Court. Eight of the 
batch were acquitted, one was sentenced to the pillory 
in four different towns with imprisonment for a year, 
and the balance were hanged on Lancaster Moor. At 
another time, in the same year, ten witches in a bunch 
were executed at Lancaster. They came from Pendle 
Forest, on the borders of Yorkshire. 

The whole world was insane on the subject, which is 
worth particularly noting, as it is a clear instance of 
the possibility of all being wrong in a matter of opinion. 
Blackstone believed in witchcraft, so did Coke and 
Bacon— to single out only three of the profoundest in- 
tellects of the time— all men of legal training, and great 
natural ability. The crazy King James VI., of Scot- 
land, and I., of England, egged them on, feeling justified 
by the verse in the Bible, which says, ' ' Thou shalt not 
suffer a witch to live." Who believes in witchcraft 
now? And yet it is as true to-day as it was three hun- 
dred years ago. In Scotland the belief in witches lin- 
gered until comparatively recent times.* 

Just as we sometimes call our Lancaster prison 1 1 Cas- 
tle Moore," so the Lancaster, England, prison used to 
be called "Hansbrow's Hotel," after the name of the 

* I remember quite well Old. Becky Fyfe, " the witch. " of our vil- 
lage. She was supposed to change herself into a hare whenever she 
pleased. In church one Sunday some youngsters laughed at an accident 
that happened to her. Next week as she came into her pew the boys 
spied her and made fun of her again. She gave them one wicked look, 
and down came from the ceiling, a cloud of dust and plaster that nearly 
smothered them! I saw this happen myself and my fear of her in- 
creased. She used to way-lay me when I passed her door and scare me 
into doing work for her. I have made a detour of a quarter of a mile 
to avoid meeting her, and just as I thought I had escaped, pop she 
appeared before me ! She was of the " typical witch type " in appear- 



188 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Governor of the Castle. About forty years ago it was 
largely patronized by insolvent debtors, who "retired" 
to its friendly seclusion until whitewashed into respec- 
tability by a decree of Court making them ' ' discharged 
debtors." Prisoners paid for their board at prices 
ranging from a dollar to five dollars per week. They 
were allowed anything they could afford to pay for, 
and some enjoyed every luxury from pipes to pianos, 
and from wine to— worse. The best room was called 
' ' The Quaker 's. ' ' Each room was run and officered ac- 
cording to well defined rules. Some prisoners made 
money attending to others. Mock trials were promi- 
nent features of entertainment, often developing real 
fun and cleverness. The following "specimen report" 
is worthy of a place by a page of Dickens : 

Counsel: You say that you know Mr. Brown? 

Witness: Yes, sir. 

Counsel: You swear that you know him? 

Witness: Yes, sir. 

Counsel: You mean you are acquainted with him? 

Witness: Yes, sir; acquainted with him. 

Counsel: Oh, then, you do not know him. You are only acquainted 
with him! Bear in mind that you are on oath, sir. Now, be very care- 
ful. You don't mean to tell the jury that you know all about Mr. 
Brown; everything that he ever did? 

Witness: No; I suppose — 

Counsel: Never mind what you suppose. Please to answer my 
question. Do you or do you not know everything that Mr. Brown 
ever did? 

Witness : No — I — 

Counsel: That will do, sir. No, you do not know. So you are 
not acquainted with all his acts? 



ance — withered, shrunken, bowed; nose and chin nearly meeting, and 
she always used a staff. Everybody said she could have no good end, 
and as a matter of fact, she was burned to death in her own bed, the 
immediate cause being forever shrouded in mystery. 

I have not made the acquaintance of any witches since, although I 
shall not say that I have not been bewitched more than once in the 
past score of years. Here, in our own Lancaster, I have seen " pow- 
wowing " for erysipelas, and the " witch-doctor," I believe, is still 
abroad among the Pennsylvania-Germans all over our State. 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 189 

Witness : No. 

Counsel: That is to say, you are not so well acquainted with them 
as you thought you were? 

Witness : Possibly not. 

Counsel: Just so. Now we begin to understand each other. If you 
do not know anything about Mr. Brown's acts when you do not see 
him, you can't swear that you know him, can you? 

Witness: Well, if you put it that way — 

Counsel: Come, sir — don't seek to evade my question. I will put it 
to you again : When you say that you know Mr. Brown you don't mean 
to insinuate that you know everything he does? 

Witness: No, sir; of course not. 

Counsel: Just so; of course not. Then you were not quite correct 
when you said that you knew Mr. Brown? 

Witness: No, sir. 

Counsel: In point of fact, you don't know Mr. Brown? 

Witness: Of course — 

Counsel: Stop there, sir. You are not called upon to make a speech. 
Are you, or are you not, acquainted with all of Mr. Brown's acts? 

Witness: No, sir. 

Counsel: No, sir. I thought so, sir. Then, of course, you cannot 
claim that you really know Mr. Brown? 

Witness: No, sir. 

Counsel: "No." A correct answer. I thought so, sir. That will 
do, sir. You can stand down. 

We never hear anything of this kind, do we, in Lan- 
caster, Pennsylvania? 

The day I made my rounds of the Lancaster Castle 
Jail, I was told of a prisoner who had been discovered 
smoking. The officials were puzzled to know where he 
secured his cigars, and an investigation revealed that 
he had made the fillers from teazed oakum, the binders 
from the leaves of his prayer book and the wrappers 
from his Bible ! When I was in the cigar business, in 
examining leaf tobacco, one of our stock jokes used to 
be it was "more hole-y than righteous," and the 
thought occurred to me that the poor Lancastrian had 
given a new meaning to the phrase. No wonder an 
irreverent listener said ' ' Holy smoke ! ' ' when he heard 
the tale. 

There is a rare story told of the great Boswell in con- 
14 



190 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

nection with the Lancaster Court. Dr. Johnson's friend 
had been in attendance at the Assize, and having in- 
dulged rather freely, was found lying on the pavement 
by some of his acquaintances. They took him in hand 
and treated him to supper, and also next morning sent 
him a brief with instructions to move for a writ Quare 
adhcesit pavimento, with observations duly calculated 
to induce him to think that it required great learning 
to explain the necessity of granting it to the Judge 
before whom he was to move. Boswell, anxious to dis- 
tinguish himself, sent all around town for attorneys and 
books to help him, but in vain. He moved, however, for 
the writ, making the best showing he could. The Judge 
was astonished, the audience amazed, and all the barris- 
ters greatly amused. "I never heard of such a writ," 
said the Judge. "What can it be that adhceres pavi- 
mento? Are any of you gentlemen of the Bar able to 
explain this ? " At last one of them said, ' l My lord, Mr. 
Boswell last night adhwsit pavimento. There was no 
moving him for some time. At last he was carried to 
bed, and he has been dreaming about himself and the 
pavement ever since. What an attachment he must 
had for it!" 

This anecdote is not in Boswell 's "Johnson," but, if 
the immortal James had cared to tell it, his version 
would have been better worth reading.* 

Among other famous men who came in touch with 
Lancaster may be mentioned the artist, Turner, who 
painted ' ' The Crook of the Lune. ' ' His great advance 
agent, John Euskin, has also in "Ariadne Florentina" 
given us an account of what he saw and admired at 
"The King's Arms." Fancy an ordinary inn having 
G-obelin tapestry valued at over $30,000, and a single 
bedstead for which the sum of $1,250 was offered ! No 
wonder King Edward, when Prince of Wales, wished to 

* He was a lawyer who could practice at two bars at the same time. 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 191 

have some of the furnishings of this hotel for his 
Sandringhara home. The poets Keats and Gray have 
left their impressions of Lancaster, and good William 
Wordsworth, who was often there, has crystalized cen- 
turies of feeling in his mournful sonnet on "Weeping 
Hill," as he particularly tells us, " suggested by the 
view of Lancaster Castle on the road from the South.' ' 
James Hogg, "The Ettrick Shepherd," once attended 
the Lancaster Theatre and had the pleasure of hear- 
ing one of his songs rendered by the leading singer. 

Jacobite readers will be interested in knowing that 
the decisive battle of ' * The Forty-five ' ' came within an 
ace of happening at Scotforth, in the suburbs of Lan- 
caster, instead of at Culloden moor, in the shire of In- 
verness. Lord George Murray and Lochiel were keen 
to meet the enemy at Scotforth, and Prince Charlie also 
favored it. He ordered the field to be carefully sur- 
veyed, and, although his generals returned with a favor- 
able report, by some whimsical turn the Prince had 
changed his mind, and soon after he proceeded on the 
northward march that finally ended in complete disaster 
at Drumossie Moor. 

Lancastrians are very proud of the fact that the great 
Dr. Whewell was a native of their town, and their pride 
is justifiable. This eminent scholar was born in 1794. 
His father was a joiner or carpenter and young Whewell 
was destined for the same trade. But his intellectual 
gifts were so pronounced that friends insisted on his 
going to college, and, better still, furnished the funds 
to keep him there. What a fine investment it turned 
out to be! Dr. Whewell eventually became Master of 
Trinity College, Cambridge, and a voluminous author 
on scientific and religious subjects.* 

* Dr. Kerr in " Memories, Grave and Gay," quotes a clever stanza 
he found on the fly-leaf of an anthem book in Trinity College Chapel 
during Whewell's reign there. He says, in the opinion of the rhymester, 
it represented Dr. Whewell's estimate of himself: 



192 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Sir Richard Owen, was also born in Lancaster, on 
the 20th of July, 1804. He was one of the most distin- 
guished scientists of his age, with a fame that is world- 
wide, his specialty, perhaps, being anatomy. When a 
student in Lancaster he collected a fine set of skulls, 
lacking an Ethiopian. At length a negro died at the 
castle, and the young doctor was given permission to 
take away the darkie's head. It was a very stormy 
night when he called to secure his prize, and, after 
severing the head from the body, he stowed his speci- 
men in a bag and started for home. At the top of a 
long stair a gust of wind caught him, and in dodging a 
door that was slammed against his face, he dropped his 
bag. The head fell out and tumbled down the steps, 
rolling into a room where two women were seated con- 
versing, and there settled on its neck on the floor beside 
them! They shrieked in terror at the apparition, and 
before they had time to collect themselves Dr. Owen 
darted into the room, picked up the head, stowed it 
again in his bag, and made off without any explanation. 
Several years after, one of the women on her death- 
bed sent for a clergyman and confessed that she could 
not die until she told a story that had been troubling 
her. One stormy night, she said, she was gossiping 
with a friend when a black head danced down the steps 
and hopped into her room, settling beside her and look- 
ing reproachfully at her. She was transfixed with 
terror and did not know what to do but scream, when 
in slipped the devil himself, lifted up the head and 
whisked out of the room without uttering a syllable. 

Another noted Lancastrian, not so well known, was 
Thomas Edmondson, the originator or inventor of the 

" The man who midst comets and galaxies travels, 
And nebulous films to the utmost unravels, 
Will find when he's reached to the verge of infinity 
That God's greatest work is the Master of Trinity." 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 193 

railway ticket system. He devised many ingenious 
things in early life, but at forty-four years of age found 
nothing better for him than Station Master at an in- 
significant place called Milton, on the Newcastle and 
Carlisle railway. His hinged pocket-comb suggested 
the vital principle of the movements necessary for the 
ticket-selling tubes, and from the first crude experi- 
ments at his little wayside station he lived to see his 
system and devices adopted by every railroad in the 
world. He had the usual hard luck of inventors, how- 
ever, and it was a rival railroad company that first gave 
him the proper encouragement, his own company fail- 
ing to recognize the great importance of his invention. 

More than once I have had occasion to notice remark- 
able coincidences connected with Lancaster, England, 
and Lancaster, Pa., and I found a conspicuous case in 
the Eoss family, the most noted of the Lancaster, Eng- 
land, branch being Mr. Stephen Ross, a freeman and 
burgess of great repute in his day and generation. 
Like our own Lancaster Eosses, he was descended 
from the Earls of Eoss, in Scotland, and could show 
almost the same pedigree as my friends, Christopher 
Hager, Esq., of Marietta, and G. Eoss Eshleman, 
Esq., of this city— the lineage of all three coming 
through the Laird of Balnagown. The American 
Eosses, I believe, like the English Eosses, consider the 
present Sir Charles Eoss, Baronet, of Balnagown, the 
head of their clan. In ancient times the Earl of Eoss 
was the Lord Palatine of Scotland, and it is at least 
curious to find his descendants prominently located in 
the two Lancasters, with the broad Atlantic between 
them. 

Only recently the cables announced to us that Sir 
William Turner had been raised to the high honor of 
Principal of Edinburgh University. He first saw the 
light of day in Moor Lane, Lancaster, but the Capital 



194 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

City of Scotland has seen more of him than any other 
place. He has there been President of the Royal Col- 
lege of Surgeons, Dean of the Faculty of Medicine and 
Professor of Anatomy. In 1889 he was President of 
the Anthropological Section of the British Association. 
At that time Turner gave his famous address on ' ' Liv- 
ing Organisms," from which the following extract is 
taken : 

" Man is a living organism, and the study of his physical frame can- 
not be separated from that of other living organisms. But whatever 
may have been the origin of his frame, whether by evolution from some 
animal form or otherwise, we can scarcely expect it ever to attain 
any greater perfection than it at present possesses. The kind of evolu- 
tion which we are to hope and strive for in him is the perfecting of 
his spiritual nature, so that the standard of the whole human race may 
be elevated and brought into more harmonious relations with that which 
is holy and divine." 

It is strange that such a profound thinker should 
doubt the possibility of man's continued physical evo- 
lution. Is there such a thing as bigotry in science?* 
Eadical changes do not come in generations, nor in cen- 
turies, but who shall say that man will be the same as 
now, structurally, say ten million years hence? What 
we do not use in course of time we lose and the most 
elementary anthropologist can name many parts of our 
bodies that from long disuse will eventually be changed 
or taken from us, just as other parts will be exaggerated 
and strengthened, and are even now in a continual state 
of transition. 

What up-to-date doctor is brave enough to say that we 
will not in due course get rid of excessive spleen and 
vermiform appendix? It also seems as sure as sunrise 
that we will in time be despoiled entirely of hair, teeth 
and toes. 

How will it all end ? There is no such thing as pause. 
We either ascend or descend, progress or retrogress, 

* Ask our esteemed fellow-citizen, Mr. Henry G. Rush, what reception 
has been given his new astronomical theories by the leading American 
colleges ? 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 195 

and evolution applies as surely to our organisms to-day 
as it applies to our moral or spiritual nature. 

I have seen it said that Sir William Turner, in the 
paragraph above quoted, delivered one of the most 
powerful sermons of recent times, but to me it only 
looks as if he wished to make an alliance with the teach- 
ers who hope to harmonize present facts with past im- 
possibilities. For the credit of Lancaster and Edin- 
burgh University, I trust he may always be joined with 
those who— 

"Seek truth, howe'er it may be found; 
Among our friends, among our foes, 
On Christian or on heathen ground, 

The plant's divine where'er it grows!" 



A FAMOUS ANGLO-AMEEICAN LANCASHIEE 

FAMILY: THE DALTONS OF THUEN- 

HAM HILL. 

Befoir Queene Bess hir holde obteyned 

On Englande's Crowne and Ball, 
Ye Englishe Daltons ruled and reigned 
As Squires of Thubnham Hall. 

May 12, 1902, the fine old Lancashire estates of 
Thurnham, Bulk, Glasson and Cockshades passed into 
the hands of John Henry Dalton, Esq., by the death of 
his father on that day. The young Squire had been 
summoned from his legal studies at Princeton Univer- 
sity and arrived at Thurnham Hall a few hours after 
Mr. William Henry Dalton had passed away. It was 
the conclusion of a particularly interesting chapter in 
the history of the old place, and the beginning of a new 
era for the famous Dalton family. 

Mr. William Hemy Dalton died at the age of sixty- 
seven after a strenuous and successful career, tinged 
also with some romance. He was a Dalton of the Dal- 



196 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

tons, but in his youth no less than eleven lives stood 
between him and succession to the ancestral acres. In- 
stead of sitting around waiting for something to happen 
Mr. Dalton struck out on his own account. His early 
life was spent in Jersey, and while yet a young man he 
had visited Australia, New Zealand, Argentina and 
Brazil, ultimately settling in Mexico, where for twenty 
years he was the proprietor of a profitable cattle-ranch. 
In 1876 he married Miss Mary Emma Cook, the eldest 
daughter of Mr. J. T. Cook, an American gentleman. 
In 1894 Mr. Dalton succeeded to the Dalton Estates, 
after making good his claims in the highest courts of 
the land. By this time, however, his health had given 
way, and he did not enjoy his new possessions long 
enough to make much impress on them, although he 
regularly spent a large partion of his income improving 
his property. 

The Daltons have been connected with Thurnham 
Hall since 1556. Always prominent as a family they 
were fated invariably to espouse the losing side of all 
national controversies. As a consequence they had 
their lands taken from them and suffered imprisonment 
more than once. But their resources, influence and 
connections were always powerful enough to enable 
them to buy back their confiscated estates, and conse- 
quently Thurnham Hall has been identified with Dal- 
tons of blood or family connection for almost four cen- 
turies. They have left their mark in Lancashire with 
no uncertain impression. In Lancaster town " Dalton 
Square ' ' is named after an early ancestor, and members 
of the Dalton family are specifically commemorated in 
the streets named John, Mary, Gage, Lucy, Bridget, 
Charlotte, Robert and Sulyard. Thurnham street and 
Bulk street of course take their names from the two 
estates of the family. 

Many interesting incidents are on record about the 



LANCASTER IN ENGLAND. 197 

Daltons who have also been connected by marriage with 
many other powerful families, notably with the Derbys 
(who gave England a Prime Minister), with the Earls 
of Sefton (family name Molyneux) ; with the Gages (of 
Hengrave Hall, Suffolk) ; with the Flemings, the Rid- 
dells, the Houghtons and the Middletons; with the 
noble family of Lathom, and with the Fitzgeralds of 
Ireland. The present Mr. Dalton is a direct lineal de- 
scendant of Sir Thomas More (1478-1535), the illus- 
trious statesman and author, who was beatified by Pope 
Leo XIII., December 9, 1886. More succeeded Wolsey 
as Chancellor of England in 1529, and held office until 
he resigned in 1532. His execution is one of the black- 
est crimes to the credit of the royal monster Henry VIII. 
More's "Utopia" is the greatest political romance ever 
written, and was first published in Latin in 1516. 

The Daltons of old were good Catholics and always 
loyal supporters of "the rightful heirs" to the crown. 
During the Civil Wars of England they took the field 
and raised their own regiments, more than one member 
of the family laying down his life for King and coun- 
try. Even as late as the Jacobite uprising of 1715 John 
Dalton of Thurnham stood out for the unfortunate 
Stuarts. A pretty legend is connected with Aldcliffe 
Hall, which was at one time a Dalton residence. Seven 
Dalton sisters were known as "The Catholic Virgins" 
and in confirmation of the fact a stone tablet is yet to be 
seen with a Latin inscription which has been deciphered 
to read ' ' Catholic Virgins are we, who scorn to change 
with the time: Ano. Dni: 1674." Mr. Wm. H. Dalton 
did not die a Catholic, and the living Daltons are all 
devoted to the Protestant faith. 

The Dalton Territory in Lancashire at one period 
embraced something like fifty thousand acres, but por- 
tions have from time to time been sold, or were not 
desired in redeeming confiscated lands, and now five 



198 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

thousand acres would probably include all the estates 
already mentioned. The Bulk estate from its proximity 
to the town of Lancaster is of great value as it can be 
almost immediately laid off in building lots. The 
* * Glasson Docks ' ' are located on the Grlasson estate, and 
it has a fringe of seashore (along Morecambe Bay) that 
seems destined for fine Villa sites at no distant date. 
On other parts of the Dalton lands are deposits of sand, 
gravel and slate, with a fair promise of more valuable 
minerals. The present Mr. Dalton has many important 
plans under consideration for the development of his 
properties, and, if spared to carry them out, his ad- 
vanced ideas will restore the home of his ancestors to 
a position worthy of its renowned pedigree. 

Old Thurnham Hall has long been in a state of decay, 
and only temporary alterations have been attempted in 
recent times, but enough remains to give more than a 
suggestion of its ancient glory. Almost opposite its 
gates are the ruins of Cockersand Abbey, founded in the 
days of Henry II., as the scholarly Mr. Roper tells us, 
"by one Hugh Garth 'an heremyt of great perfecc'n."' 
The Chapter House of the Abbey is now used as a 
burial place for the Dalton family. The old oak-chest, 
or "Ark," that formerly belonged to the Abbot of 
Cockersand is now at Thurnham Hall. 

Mr. John Henry Dalton, like his father before him, 
is greatly attached to the Western Hemisphere, and 
being half- American spends a considerable portion of 
his time in the New World. He owns properties in 
Florida, California and Texas, and at present is much 
interested in the development of Oil-lands in the latter 
state. He has been educated partly in England and 
partly in the United States. With his intelligent ad- 
miration for republican principles, he has lost none of 
a true Englishman's love for his native land, and very 
fittingly represents the coming powerful Anglo-Ameri- 
can racial type that so happily blends the best of the 
old country's blood with the ablest of the new. 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 

'Tis easy in another's Speech 

To censure spirit, style and letter 

But hard indeed the Art to reach 
To make one's own Orations better! 

If the true test of oratory is the power to move people 
to action the famous rule of Demosthenes takes on a 
new meaning. There must be action by the audience 
no less than action by the speaker, and some orations 
that have produced truly marvellous action— though 
often long delayed— have not been noted for great 
action in delivery. Calhoun's speech that ultimately 
moved the South to war was delivered by proxy, the 
author being so weak he could not even read it. Other 
cases will readily come to mind, showing that of the 
two kinds of action, the action of the auditor is more 
important than that of the orator. But while that may 
all be so, action in the orator is still more apt to pro- 
duce pleasing effects. For many years I have given 
special attention to oratory, and in my time have had an 
opportunity of hearing many fine public speakers on 
both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Many men we go 
to hear and see because they are celebrated for other 
reasons than that they are public speakers, just as we 
often read the writings of many who have little literary 
skill because they are famous or notorious in other lines. 
Popularity, like kissing, goes by favor, and there is 
often no accounting for public taste by any other expla- 
nation. If all be true that 's told the two clowns Kemp 
and Tarlton received far more applause than the divine 
William Shakespeare when the three appeared together 
on the stage of the Globe Theatre. Thousands will 
flock to see a freak like Tom Thumb for one that will 

199 



200 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

patronize the exhibition of a great living artist like 
Haydon. In selecting my examples I have kept myself 
as closely as possible to those who are worthy of con- 
sideration as orators or talkers, apart from any fame 
they may have or have had in other directions. 

Henry Ward Beecher.— In Scotland the "Kirkin" 
after a wedding is a most important event. I was mar- 
ried at the residence of my wife's father in Scotland, 
the parish minister tying the knot; but with my bride 
left at once for America, and our " Kir kin" took place 
in Brooklyn, Henry Ward Beecher being the officiating 
clergyman. It was our first experience of an American 
Church, and we were both amused and somewhat 
shocked at the frankness and freeness of the minister 
as well as the plainly manifested levity of the congre- 
gation, all being such a big transition from our Scotch 
sternness and stupid rigidity, and too abrupt for us to 
pass without certain resistance and inward protest. But 
we soon felt very comfortable and church-going had ever 
after a new meaning to us. Beecher spoke from a plat- 
form, over which he disported himself in quite a spry 
manner for such a white-haired, venerable man. His 
face was a disappointment at first, but when he kindled 
up it was transformed or forgotten. His sermon was 
on ' ' The blasted fig tree, ' ' and he ventured nothing out 
of the ordinary until he came to the subject of truth. 
He was sailing on at a good rate when he stopped with 
a funny twinkle in his eye, and said: "If I were to ask 
all those here to stand up who never told a lie, I am sure 
every mother's son of you would keep your seats — and 
I, myself, sit down too!" The congregation actually 
applauded this sally— think of it, oh, gloomy sombre 
Calvinistic Presbyterians !— in the sacred precincts of 
the holy Temple and during divine service ! It even put 
one of our neighbors into such a pleasant humor that 
she handed over her fan that we might make ourselves 
more comfortable. 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 201 

While the sermon did not, as I remarked, impress me 
as anything extra, Beecher's prayers did. I had never 
heard such petitions before— so simple and so search- 
ing, so pathetic and so truthful, so yearning and seem- 
ingly so sincere. All in all it was a great Sunday, and 
when later on I received from Mr. Beecher a copy of 
the sermon I had heard him preach it strengthened an 
interest in him that never weakened until he died. His 
printed words read very well even to those who have 
never hard him, but have a different meaning to any 
one who had the privilege of even once constituting a 
member of his audience. 

William Jennings Bryan.— I saw and heard Wil- 
liam Jennings Bryan in the Martin Auditorium, Y. M. 
C. A. Building, Lancaster, Pa. He had then been twice 
defeated in his contest for the Presidency. As proof 
of the popularity of the man, although Lancaster is in- 
tensely Eepublican, every seat in the large hall was 
filled, and the platform also overflowed with prominent 
citizens. Bryan was so familiar to every one from his 
portrait that he was recognized as soon as he made his 
appearance. He looked very much like a farmer 
dressed up in a suit that did not feel comfortable, sug- 
gesting the awkwardness of Abraham Lincoln not a 
little. But as soon as he commenced to talk his clothes 
gave himself and his audience no more concern. He 
spoke fluently, deliberately, and clearly, never being at 
a loss for a word. His gestures were few. Of course 
he was delivering a speech quite familiar to him— one 
of his regular series of lectures— and by the time he 
had reached Lancaster it was an oft-told tale. But he 
infused it with enthusiasm, and it struck the audience 
with freshness and with force. Once or twice he made 
a plain bid for the galleries and promptly received his 
reward. It was a demagogic lapse that seemed to me 
an unnecessary blemish in an otherwise fine oration. 



202 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Public speaking is easy to him, and after his introduc- 
tion no one at any time doubted that he would make a 
great success. It was a complete triumph. We had a 
little taste of him in his best and brightest moods, and 
before he left us he had added many former doubters 
and decriers to the vast number of his friends and ad- 
mirers. 

T. DeWitt Talmage I heard several times, al- 
ways as a lecturer, but in every instance the 
preacher predominated. He was past his best days, 
and the fickle public had begun to get tired of 
him. I noticed nothing particularly striking about his 
oratory except the wonderful effect he produced in 
quoting scripture texts. There he seemed to be in his 
element and the words appeared to stream from the 
tips of his fingers. He was fluent enough, and more 
jocular than sombre in his style, but he used too many 
old jokes and gags for a man of his high reputation— 
in this respect reminding me of Chauncey M. Depew, 
who is brave enough to retail "chestnuts" that have 
been discarded by even Coney Island Vaudevillians. 
Talmage personally impressed me as a cold, calculating 
man more likely to strike a stiff bargain than to let his 
heart run away with his head. His mouth was the 
prominent feature of his face, and so big it seemed that 
I have always thought the Scotchman was not far wrong 
who declared that Talmage could have sung a duet all 
by himself. I have always admired his great com- 
mand of language and wealth of illustration— his ser- 
mons read well even to-day for those who do not care 
for such theology— and I had heard wonderful tales of 
his oratorical powers, but he only filled me with a very 
mild enthusiasm, and the net result was a disappoint- 
ment. 

Henry George. — The week that I emigrated from 
Scotland to America Henry George was billed to de- 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 203 

liver a lecture in one of Glasgow's largest halls. This 
was as far back as May, 1886. It was more than ten 
years after that when I first had the pleasure of hear- 
ing him— at a Single Tax meeting in Philadelphia, 
where Dr. McGlynn was the principal speaker. George 
was recognized in the audience, and literally compelled 
to go on the platform. He was a wee mannie, but stout, 
and seemed more dumpy on that account and also be- 
cause of his big, bushy beard. I remember how he 
flung his head back, as if to look more easily into the 
eyes of his audience. He spoke freely and with care, 
on his favorite theme. Several times he warmed up 
and pranced around quite lively, giving the impression 
that when aroused he would fight hard. His thinking 
was done on his feet, his short address being extem- 
poraneous and unexpected. McGlynn was a good 
speaker, earnest, forceful and with winning ways, but 
Henry George eclipsed him fairly. After that I could 
understand something of his power over men and felt 
sure his conquests were only restricted by his physical 
limitations. He died suddenly in New York, in the 
heart of a municipal campaign, being then the Labor 
candidate for Mayor. Any one who wishes to see 
what kind of a debater Henry George was with the pen 
is recommended to procure the little book entitled "A 
Perplexed Philosopher," which deals with Herbert 
Spencer's revised opinions on the land question. It is 
as engrossing as the latest novel and shows how small 
a big Goliath in the wrong may be made to look when 
a little David, with right on his side, gets a fair chance 
to swing his sling. 

Moody.— Twice did I hear the great Moody, but the 
first time is a misty memory. It was at Craig Castle, 
Auchindoir, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and must have 
been in 1874, when I was in my ninth year. It 
was also my first attendance at a big revival meet- 



204 HERB AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

ing. The Laird of Craig of that period was "a little 
daft on religion, ' ' and at his own expense, it was said, 
brought Moody from Aberdeen. Sankey was not pres- 
ent at that time, but there was no lack of other good 
singers, and evidently many who followed Moody from 
place to place just as the side shows follow the big cir- 
cus. As everywhere, the crowd was immense. I don't 
remember a word Moody said at Craig, but I recall his 
gestures, and I am also sure that the douce, dour, 
phlegmatic Auchindorians refused to admit there was 
anything wonderful about the Yankee revivalist as a 
preacher. The next and last time I saw Moody was 
at a noon mass meeting for ministers in 1897 in the 
Y. M. C. A. Building, Philadelphia. I managed to 
creep in somehow, and was well rewarded for my en- 
terprise. Moody preached on "The Good Samaritan' ' 
which he pronounced " Sam-er'itan. " When he came 
on the platform I thought : " A gourmand he must be ! " 
He had a paunch on him like a Shakespearean alder- 
man. But after he began to speak his swelling rotun- 
dity was forgotten, if it did not actually disappear. 
What a wonderful talker he was ! Full of life and fire, 
genial, witty, humorous, impudent, personal, sarcastic, 
kind, tender, pathetic,— everything by turns; active, 
profuse in gesture, effective in pose, abounding in illus- 
tration; his sentences crisp, short, well moulded and 
projected with the force and directness of bullets. To 
my delight his matter was intensely humanitarian, as 
it had to be from such a text. He said too many people, 
ministers included, thought that so-called religious 
chatter was their whole duty. Well, it was easier and 
cheaper than putting their hands in their pockets and 
giving practical help; but sermons and tracts and 
prayers were not enough. A little coin, a loaf of bread, 
a small basket of fruit or even a bit of candy would 
often preach a better sermon than the most eloquent 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 205 

pulpit oration. When the sick and the aged were 
visited an orange, a bunch of grapes or something 
equally refreshing might be substituted for a reading 
from the Bible, or a meaningless, cold, hard, punky 
"pious" talk. The trouble anyhow with most people 
was that they were all the time shouting ' Cream, cream, 
cream/ but only living skim-milk! "Who is your 
neighbor ! " he bellowed. ' ' I don 't mean the man that 
lives in the brownstone front, next door to you, but the 
little fellow in the back-alley next to your stables. ' ' He 
noticed a newspaper artist trying to make a sketch of 
him, and he said : ' ' Never mind me, young man, put in 
the picture of a Philadelphia Good Sam-er'itan. It 
will be far more interesting and inspiring than a cut of 
Moody." In my time I have heard the most of the 
great preachers, and, without hesitation, I place Moody 
at the top of the list,— with no second. His enthusiasm 
was such that, from the very beginning, he captured his 
audience, as with a net, and he kept them in that posi- 
tion or condition until he had said his last word. He 
was essentially, however, an orator, and without the 
charm of his personality his talks make almost as dry 
reading as Henry Clay's speeches. 

Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll.— Long before I left 
Scotland I had become familiar with Col. Robert G. 
IngersolPs writings and had come to look upon him as 
the greatest orator of our time. The high encomiums 
he received from such judges as Beecher, Field, and 
indeed all prominent Americans capable of judging did 
much to fortify this opinion. His printed lectures and 
addresses read well and had about them the true ora- 
torical aroma. They were not essays nor treatises, but 
preeminently spoken words. When I came to Amer- 
ica I kept my eye open for a chance to hear Ingersoll. 
In due time it came and I have heard him under the 
best possible auspices— from the body of a hall and 

15 



206 HERB AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

from the platform beside him. He talked on religious, 
secular and literary subjects, but in every instance, to 
my disappointment, he read his oration. His voice 
had a slight rasp, and there was also a noticeable 
nasal twang when he began to speak. His manner 
was confident, perhaps "cocky," but he was by no 
means profuse in gesture. Everybody always seemed 
to be pleased with him but myself, some going 
into raptures over his performances. With all his noted 
self-control, once in Philadelphia I saw him badly 
"rattled" by an old man who took exception to some- 
thing in the lecture. Ingersoll plainly lost his temper 
and his fine speech in rebuking his critic. I was very 
anxious to have Ingersoll measure up to my high ideal 
of the world's leading orator, but I could not see it, 
much as I liked him personally and admired above all 
else his manly independence. Several times I con- 
versed with him and found him to be like all noted 
speakers— quite hesitant in his ordinary talk. He also 
nad the important blemish of using oaths in common 
conversation to give emphasis to his talk. This was 
particularly unfortunate in him, as he was innately a 
clean and well-behaved man, and certainly did not lack 
for decent words to express his meaning. He favored 
me from time to time with some fine letters, always sent 
me complimentary tickets for his lectures, and on sev- 
eral occasions presented me with autographed copies of 
his works. The last time I saw him, about a year be- 
fore his death, I noticed he was failing fast. When he 
died I felt I had lost a friend. Many people affect to 
believe that Ingersoll was not sincere in his criticism 
of theologies and creeds, but I am satisfied he spoke 
from the heart and because of his love for humanity 
more than on account of his hate for the religious sys- 
tems that, in his opinion, so much retarded the world's 
real progress. His favorite author was Shakespeare, 



OKATOKY AND ORATORS. 207 

and the orator never tired telling how much our great 
Scotch poet had done for him as a writer and an emanci- 
pator. In this connection I may tell the joke perpe- 
trated on Ingersoll by Henry Ward Beecher. The elo- 
quent agnostic had been lecturing on the "Bard of 
Ayr," and the conversation had turned on epitaphs. 
Beecher said he could suggest a good one for Ingersoll, 
and in proof of it produced a card on which he had 
simply written 

"Robert Burns." 

No one would have better enjoyed the joke than 
Colonel Bob himself. 

When I visited the Burns Cottage at Ayr last sum- 
mer I saw a fine photographic f ac-simile of Ingersoll 's 
"Tribute to Burns" occupying the place of honor in 
the "Auld Clay Biggin." Several ministers protested 
against such sacrilege, and to one of them I made the 
following rejoinder:* 

' ' Burns and Ingersoll. 
"Sir.— It is not at all strange how differently the 
same things will strike different men, and, knowing 
Colonel Ingersoll as I knew him, and Rev. Dr. Robert- 
son of Cincinnati as I know him, I am not surprised at 
the outburst of my clerical friend in regard to having 
Ingersoll 's poem on Burns in the Burns' Cottage at 
Alloway. Dr. Robertson, it seems to me, has made the 
mistake of thinking that his individual opinion of Inger- 
soll is sufficient to cause the withdrawal of the well- 
known agnostic 's beautiful lines ; and, as the critic has 
no real case against the writer, he hopes by abuse to 
direct attention from the unquestionable genius of the 
verse. As it so happens, I am a Scottish- American too, 
and on visiting the Cottage to-day, I could see no impro- 

* Ayrshire Post, October 31, 1902. 



208 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

priety in having the tribute where it is. Nay more, it 
would have just read as well and pleased me none the 
less if it had been written by Moody or by Dr. Talmage. 
Ingersoll wrote very rarely in rhyme, and this is without 
doubt one of his happiest effusions. I happen to know 
that he was passionately fond of the bard of Ayr— 
'almost insane on Burns,' as he once wrote to me— and 
in my belief Ingersoll had more than an ordinary share 
of the poet 's philosophy and religion. At this moment, 
I cannot think of anyone that Burns would have been 
more delighted to meet than the fearless, warm-hearted, 
manly Robert Ingersoll, who never wearied in his love 
and admiration for the author of what he was fond of 
styling, 'Humanity's Declaration of Independence'— 
'A Man's a Man for a' That!' Dr. Eobertson no doubt 
felt he was doing right to publicly resent the coupling 
of Burns with Ingersoll in the birthplace of the bard, 
but he evidently overlooks the fact that the world, and 
even the Presbyterian creed, have been moving since 
election and fore-ordination were crucified on 'Holy 
Willie's Prayer'; and lots of people, with no unkindly 
feeling to churches or to ministers, now do their own 
thinking, and not without thanks, in many instances, to 
such brave souls and advanced minds as Robert Burns 
and Robert Ingersoll. The genial American was fond 
of telling a story that may not be out of place here. He 
said he was once in the company of a distinguished 
divine, and after a long talk on Burns, Ingersoll asked 
the minister 'if he had the chance, would he rather meet 
King Solomon, or the Apostle Paul, or John Calvin, 
or Robert Burns?' 'If you don't tell on me,' said the 
clergyman, 'I'll tell.' 'Oh, then,' said Ingersoll, 'you 
needn't mind, as if it was anyone else than Burns, you 
did not have to exact any promise from me!' From 
what I know of Dr. Robertson, I believe he himself 
would be glad to meet Burns any time, in spite of all 



OKATORY AND ORATORS. 209 

the hard things he has said against the cloth and the 
kirks— and so say we all of us! Colonel Ingersoll's 
favorite quotation from Burns was: 

"To mak' a happy fireside clime 
To weans and wife ; 
That's the true pathos and sublime 
Of human life!" 

Any one who had the privilege of entering the Colonel 's 
family circle, soon discovered that he not only believed 
in that statement, but lived up to the splendid 
philosophy of it." 

Russell H. Conwell, of Philadelphia, preacher, 
lawyer, soldier, traveler and journalist, gave the 
finest ' ' lecture ' ' I ever heard, and I place him amongst 
the very best orators it has ever been my lot to see 
and hear. His subject was "Acres of Diamonds," and 
although he had "delivered the goods" actually thou- 
sands of times he infused a freshness into the theme 
that was positively inspiring. He was strong on 
mimicry, which I am convinced is one of the leading 
requisites of a good orator. He had better command 
of himself than any speaker I ever heard, and every 
sentence seemed to be just right, with the accompanying 
gestures natural and correct. So much impressed was 
I with his style that I soon went to hear him preach at 
his big Temple, but found him nothing above the ordi- 
nary. Indeed, I was displeased with his sermon, 
both as to matter and to manner, although he manages 
to hold the biggest congregation in the Quaker City, 
and does perhaps as much good with his talents as any 
single man in the town of William Penn. Conwell is 
a good business man as well as an acceptable Baptist 
preacher, and part of his great success must no doubt 
be credited to his executive ability. 



210 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Annie Besant.— Many women speakers I have heard 
in my time, but none that could hold the candle to 
Annie Besant. When in Edinburgh I attended a meet- 
ing of the Philosophical Society at which she was the 
lecturer, holding forth for an hour on her latest hobby 
—an " Outline of the Creed of Theosophy." She spoke 
without note of any kind, and made an abstruse theme 
intensely interesting. Her oration reminded me less of 
rhetorical pyrotechnics than of shot after shot from 
an unspikeable battery, a steady slug, slugging away, 
and each blow hitting the target. There was neither 
let nor pause— not even once did she trip on a word 
or hesitate for an expression, but stuck to her guns 
and kept pounding away until from the overwhelming 
applause, she evidently convinced her audience that she 
had proved her propositions and demolished all possible 
objections to them. If there was any fault to be found 
with the delivery it was in its too solid monotony, and 
yet coming from her lips it seemed to be the only proper 
way to present such a weighty theme. 

A pleasing orator of the Irish type was Father 
Joseph O'Connor, Eoman Catholic Priest, of Phila- 
delphia. He was one of the most delightful speakers 
in his Church, and had admirers among all sects and 
classes. His sermons to Protestants became so popular 
that an admission fee was charged, and yet he never 
lacked crowded houses. He excelled at telling a witty 
story, but also made ambitious excursions into the 
realms of history and literature, and always came off 
with flying colors. Much as I enjoyed his public ad- 
dresses, I believe he was at his best in his own room, 
going over Hamlet's "Advice to the Players," or 
giving imitations of the interesting speakers he had 
heard from time to time in his long years of oratorical 
study. He prepared a small book entitled "Notes on 
Preaching, ' ' which I highly prize, and, my copy having 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 211 

been received from the author himself, his inscription 
on it makes it particularly valuable. Father 'Connor 
died when in his prime, deeply lamented by a large 
circle of friends and admirers. 

Robert Collyer.— The grand old man of Unitar- 
ianism is a powerful speaker with a fine grip of the 
homely Saxon. His career is an inspiration to any 
man. All the world knows that he was a blacksmith, 
and he told me himself that he has filled in spare time 
breaking stones for road metal. But he never smothered 
the bird of hope that kept singing in his breast, and 
he lived to occupy the best-paid pulpit in America. 
He read his sermon the only time I heard him preach, 
but, as the old woman said of Dr. Chalmers: "It did 
not matter if he had whistled it"— he was fine! The 
Unitarians have not many speakers, compared to other 
churches, but they certainly have a big share of good 
orators. Edward Everett Hale and Minot J. Savage 
need not take a back seat anywhere. Colonel Thomas 
Wentworth Higginson is perhaps the last of the school 
of Wendell Phillips and George William Curtis, and 
worthily upholds its traditions. 

Three eminent speakers from the ranks of journalism 
are Colonel McClure and Charles Emory Smith, 
both of Philadelphia, and Henry Watterson, of Ken- 
tucky. The first and the last-named have each a lecture 
on "Abraham Lincoln." McClure, I think, brings us 
nearer to "old Abe," but Watterson is the better 
orator, and I never heard any one read a letter as he 
can do. Smith I consider an all-around man of great 
power, and destined for yet greater triumphs. He has 
been in the Cabinet of the United States, and it would 
be no surprise to me to see him President. 

Dr. John Watson.— Major Pond tells me of all his 
platform successes "Ian Maclaren" easily topped the 
list, eclipsing even Stanley. I heard Watson lecture 



212 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and am quite sure we have a thousand preachers in 
Scotland who could have done as well, but then— not 
one of them has given us a "Dr. McClure" or "A Lad 
o' Pairts." 

It might be safely imagined that men who are con- 
tinually before the public could always make good 
speakers, but it does not follow. One of the poorest 
speeches I ever heard was perpetrated by such a re- 
nowned actor as Sir Henry Irving. It is nothing new 
to know that charming writers like Washington Irving 
and De Quincey were complete failures as orators, but 
something better is expected of men who are in con- 
stant platform practice and know every trick of the 
trade. 

There is perhaps no art under the sun where success 
has been reached under a greater variety of forms than 
this same business of public speaking. Personally I 
demand a great oration to have good matter, to be 
delivered without any notes, and with every variety of 
tone and gesture ; but it cannot be denied that speeches 
which have become classics have been poorly delivered, 
and many finely delivered orations have perished with 
the occasions that called them forth. The American 
high-water mark of eloquence is doubtless Lincoln's 
Address on the battlefield of Gettysburg, and yet it 
made a very indifferent impression on the crowd that 
first heard it. I have talked to some who were present 
—intelligent men and friendly to Lincoln— that declare 
the speech was a pitiful failure, not for a moment to 
be compared to the oration of Everett, who was the 
top-sawyer talker of his time. The best description I 
ever read of this great historic event is given by John 
Russell Young, who was on the ground as a reporter 
for the New York Tribune. His detailed account of 
the proceedings on that memorable day makes a worthy 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 213 

frame for Lincoln 's masterpiece, and should accompany 
every reproduction of it.* 

Pleasing American political talkers I have listened 
to by the dozen. Blaine's day was over before I heard 
him give a short speech at the Union League, Phila- 

* When at Springfield, Illinois, I visited the home and many of the 
haunts of Abraham Lincoln. Visitors are admitted to his former resi- 
dence, where many relics of the martyr President can be seen. I was 
invited to sit in Daniel Webster's chair and use Mr. Lincoln's writing 
desk. It reminded me of the story of the darkie barber at the Capitol 
and the left-handed compliment he paid to a Senator who was anxious 
to be praised for his oratorical powers : " You remind me, sah, of 
Dan'l Webster," said the tonsorial artist. " Indeed," said the Senator, 
" in what respect ? In my voice, or my gestures, or general carriage ? " 
" No, not exactly," was the crushing response, — "in your breath, sir, 
in your breath." I hope my resemblance to the great orator, for the 
brief period I occupied his seat, took a more flattering turn. All 
around me were personal memorials of the Lincoln family, including 
several letters, and promissory notes in Abe's well-known hand, a lock 
of Mrs. Lincoln's hair, some fragments of her jewelry, one of her books 
with her autograph, the white table cloth used at the Lincoln wedding 
dinner, and last but not least the sofa on which this interesting couple 
did their courting. Before I left the city I found an old man who 
claimed to have known Lincoln intimately, and to my regret did not 
speak well of him. But local testimony is not always to be depended 
on, especially after the departure of the subject of criticism. Do not 
forget the fable of the donkeys that kicked and insulted the dead lion! 

Abraham Lincoln made a great speech on Robert Burns that has 
so far eluded all recent searchers, much as it is desired. The files of 
the local newspapers, the fine organization of the Congressional Library, 
and all the surviving literary men of the time have been appealed to in 
vain. If any reader of these lines can help in this matter it will be 
greatly appreciated by all Burns students. The late Tom Donaldson, 
of Philadelphia, told the writer that Lincoln told Donaldson that Lincoln 
got the idea of negro emancipation from "A Man's a Man for a' That." 
Lincoln has put it on record that his life was more influenced by 
Burns than by any other single author. The great President was also 
very partial to Wm. Knox's poem, " 0, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal 
be Proud?" and that fact is noted on Knox's tomb-stone in Grey- 
friar's churchyard, Edinburgh, as I verified. Lincoln never knew 
who was the author of the poem. Knox was a native of Roxburghshire, 
born 1789, and for a time, like Burns, was a Dumfries-shire farmer. 
He published three volumes of poetry and attracted the attention and 
help of Sir Walter Scott and Professor Wilson, dying in his thirty- 
seventh year. 



214 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

delphia, but he drew an enormous crowd on his high 
reputation. Champ Clark is a scholar as well as a 
statesman, and shines equally well on the platform or 
around the social table. General Breckenridge could 
hold his own with any— an orator of the old Kentucky 
school. Our own Lancaster Brosius evoked golden 
encomiums wherever he spoke, but his style was too 
ornate and elaborate for ordinary occasions, and he 
never came off his high horse. The consequence was 
that when he made a speech on street-cleaning or a kin- 
dred trivial topic the gorgeous embroidery of his style 
seemed out of place. 

Ex- Attorney-General William Uhler Hensel, also 
of Lancaster, Pa., is second to none as a pleasing ex- 
temporaneous public speaker, on political, civic, legal, 
literary or social topics. As a toast-master he has re- 
peatedly graced the chair at the largest gatherings of 
Lawyers and Judges ever held in America. Wherever 
he speaks he carries off the honors. After a wide 
acquaintance with all kinds and classes of orators I 
place him in the very first rank, for all the leading 
qualities essential to a fluent talker who can think on 
his feet. He also shines with the rarest brilliancy as 
a host, and has entertained and edified all the celebrities 
that have found their way to Lancaster in the past score 
of years, making Hensel hospitality harmonize with 
Lancaster county 's agricultural record, which every one 
knows is ahead of all competition. Mr. Hensel is the 
busiest lawyer in Lancaster, yet he manages to keep up 
his interest in his college and give it a fair share of his 
time, being Vice-President of its Board of Trustees, 
and also holding office on other important Franklin and 
Marshall Committees. He is a member of the Shake- 
speare Society of Philadelphia, and above all, to my 
mind, he is sensible enough to do a fair amount of 
traveling yearly, either in the Old World or in the New. 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 215 

Few people, it is said, die of overwork, but I never hear 
this remark without thinking and fearing that my 
friend may sometime "overdo the pressure and thus 
unhappily snuff out the light that man can not restore. ' ' 
Nothing is trivial that may produce good results, so in 
hope that the caution may be heeded I am fain to parody 
one of St. Benjamin's best known apothegms, and 
remembering the motto on the seal of Mr. Hensel's 
Alma Mater, say to him none the less sincerely because 
jocularly framed: Take care of the Lux and the Lex 
will take care of itself. 

W. Bourke Cockran is by some considered our 
leading living political orator, and consequently when 
the opportunity to hear him presented itself I went to 
Carnegie Music Hall, New York, with high expecta- 
tions. From what I have read of Daniel O'Connell I 
think Cockran belongs to the same category. He im- 
pressed me as having more strength than grace— an 
orator for vast assemblages. He had a crowd of many 
thousands when I formed one of his audience— it was 
in the midst of a New York City political campaign— 
and in many passages of his speech he literally bellowed 
like a bull. He no doubt did not feel called upon to 
give us his best, and as a matter of fact he impressed 
me poorly, his whole talk being of the go-as-you-please 
order with a good many stumbling sentences and halt- 
ing figures of speech. Yet it would be foolish to belittle 
him, as I have read speeches he has made that literally 
lifted me off my seat and they must have been even 
more moving to those who heard them. Cockran is said 
to be "a natural born" orator, but his fine literary style 
at his best proves that he is a careful student and pains- 
taking polisher of his periods. 

James B. Pond.— It is rather difficult to place Major 
Pond. He was best known as a manager of orators, in- 
deed "the" manager of our time, but he could give 



216 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

a good lecture himself and he was a most delightful con- 
versationalist. His excellent books contain only a 
small part of him, and to know him at his best was to 
have a chat with him in his "den" at his interesting 
home in Jersey City. His residence was a unique 
treasure-house, every wall hung with souvenirs of the 
most noted public entertainers, and his library stocked 
with the rarest mementos of his happy associations with 
his "stars." Major Pond was a most methodical man, 
and among other things kept a journal for the past 
thirty years, jotting down daily his observations and 
experiences. It is no exaggeration to say that he came 
in contact with more celebrities than almost any other 
man of our era, and enjoyed the closest personal rela- 
tions with the best of them. He had many plans for 
further utilizing his vast and valuable data, but his un- 
expected sudden demise last June has left the mines 
practically unworked. By a strange turn of affairs I 
was brought into. intimate relationship with him in the 
closing months of his life, and the more I saw of him 
the more I admired, esteemed and loved him. 

Among after-dinner speakers, of whom I have heard 
many, ex-Mayor Wm. B. Smith of Philadelphia, and 
ex-Bailie Michael Simons of Glasgow, are entitled to 
the highest honors. Smith is a favorite everywhere, 
and can say commonplace things with a charm and 
a force that are the despair of the most assiduous 
students of oratory not gifted with such natural graces. 
His voice and his smile are irresistible. Simons is, in 
his own words, "a psychological study" and in the 
opinion of his contemporaries "an Israelite, indeed, 
in whom is no guile." Born of a Scotch mother, 
his father a Hebrew, he unites in himself two of the 
greatest races of all time, and it is hard to say which one 
predominates. The folks over the sea do not bother 
with the problem, knowing he is a Glasgowegian, one 



ORATORY AND ORATORS. 217 

of themselves, a successful business man, who has filled 
with honor many of the highest offices and posts in the 
gift of the community, and feeling they are always safe 
in having him to fall back upon when a local talk of 
more than ordinary quality is needed or expected. He 
is even in demand in London on extra great occasions, 
and while his visits to the states are 1 1 strictly business, ' ' 
not a few who have been bored with some of our big 
Yankee guns have succumbed to the golden eloquence 
of this well-beloved son of St. Mungo. 

Corpulency and Cleverness. 
Reference to Moody's embonpoint emphasizes the 
opinion that, contrary to a common impression, stout 
people are not necessarily barren of brain or sterile in 
intellectual ability. Among statesmen and orators who 
were and are of generous physical proportions we can 
readily call to mind Lord Salisbury, Grover Cleveland, 
Tom Reed, Ingersoll and our own honey-tongued Hen- 
sel. Historians to be included in the same category 
are Hume, Gibbon and Fiske. Antiquarians can show 
Captain Grose. Among essayists may be mentioned 
Johnson and Sainte-Beuve. Boswell was also "a man 
of weight" in more ways than one. The novelists can 
point to Balzac and the elder Dumas, and it is well 
known that Eugene Sue had a constant terror of be- 
coming another kind of a "Soo," and daily drank 
vinegar (like Byron) to kill fat. Jules Janin, the King 
of critics, played havoc among chairs and sofas when 
he went visiting. Lablache, the Italian singer, was 
counted equal to three fares when he travelled— and 
had to pay them. Rossini, the composer, lost sight of 
his feet and his knees for years before his bed was made 
with a shovel, and his body tucked into its wooden 
blanket. Even Napoleon, with his active brain, could 
not keep down his plumpness. One of our leading 



218 HEBE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

Western merchants, my friend, Mr. Dugald Crawford, 
of "The Big Store," St. Lonis, Mo., in spite of his 
gigantic proportions, lets no competitor ont-strip him in 
the race for business. And where is there a wittier 
character in all print than the fat knight, Sir John 
Falstaff? It has even been said and fairly well con- 
firmed that Shakespeare himself was a man with a 
good-sized stomach, and could play the character of his 
bulky "old Jack" without any padding. It is not 
granted to every one to be able to say : 

"Enough's enough— of bread or cheese, of water or of 
whiskey, ' ' 

and then again, 

"It take's good beef to make good bree." 

People built on a liberal scale are often told that the 
most valuable goods are put up in small packages, but 
they may always have a good retort in the words of 
Balthasar Gracian, who says (what is also true) that 

"The most precious metals are the heaviest." 



THE LIFE AND CAREER OF GENERAL HUGH 

MERCER (SCOTTISH-AMERICAN 

PATRIOT). 

AS DELIVERED AT THE EXERCISES IN HONOR OF HUGH 

MERCER, KEIL HALL, MERCERSBURG, PA., 

U. S. A., MAY 1, 1902. 

Mr. President, Boys of Mercersburg, Ladies and Gentlemen: 

In being here, I feel that I am standing on hallowed ground. Penn- 
sylvania is a great state, an empire too vast for any one to dispose of in 
a few sentences. Franklin County has a marvelous history: to do it 
justice would demand a volume; and even to simply enumerate the 
choice and master-spirits who have been identified with Mercersburg 
would require more time than I can give to my whole address. This 
beautiful spot, so highly favored with Nature's gifts, is rich in memories 
of great and famous men. We cannot forget that Mercersburg gave us 
James Potter, who was a Major General in the Continental Army and 
also Vice-President of the State; that she gave us Robert McClelland, 
who was a Governor of Michigan and also Secretary of the Interior 
under Franklin Pierce; that she gave us the Finlay family with a 
Governor, and three brothers all in Congress at the same time ; that she 
gave us Thomas A. Scott, who was an Assistant Secretary of War and 
is still considered the greatest railroad manager known to the world; 
and that she also produced James Buchanan, a statesman who was 
Senator, Ambassador, Secretary of State and President of the United 
States, filling every post with credit to himself and honor to his birth- 
place. In the quieter walks of life Mercersburg also shines with 
resplendent lustre. Here lived and labored Dr. John Williamson Nevin 
in the front rank of theologians and one of the profoundest thinkers 
of his age. We cannot forget that this was also the home of Dr. 
Philip Schaff whose learning commanded the attention of all lands and 
whose name will ever be associated with the Revision of the English 
Bible of King James. Dr. Frederick Augustus Rauch was another 
great Biblical scholar who added to the fame of the borough, as did 
Dr. Henry Harbaugh whose harp within this lovely vale was often tuned 
to the sweet, quaint music of the Pennsylvania German speech. Here 
also lived Apple and Higbee and Aughinbaugh, among the prominent 
men of their time in the field of education. 

Indeed Mercersburg breathes a truly classic atmosphere; for small 
as the borough is, and to some extent obscurely situated, it can never 
have erased from its annals its record as a seat of learning. In addition 
to having a college of its own, it was, as you all know, the original site 

219 



220 HEKE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

of Marshall College as well as of the Theological Seminary of the 
Ref ormed Church ; and if Lancaster must bear some blame for absorbing 
the last two named institutions, Franklin and Marshall College has 
surely made ample amends in giving back so able an educator as Dr. 
Wm. Mann Irvine, the respected, beloved and successful President of 
your present rapidly growing, and now widely noted Academy. When 
Mercersburg had been abandoned by her old time friends, her rooms 
vacated and her halls deserted, undaunted by the existing gloom and 
the seemingly hopeless outlook, here Dr. Irvine pitched his tent, and 
unfurling his white and dark blue banner to the breeze, with the energy 
and enthusiasm of youth set to work to restore to this famous name 
something of its former prestige. How well he has succeeded results 
themselves will tell! Instead of having to brood over departed glory, 
Mercersburg has entered on a new lease of life that bids fair to excel 
her former history in its palmiest days. Long may the genial Doctor 
preside over the destinies of his growing charge! Irvine has always 
been a name to conjure with on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, and 
as it is true that " blood will tell " it is equally pleasant to remember 
that, in spite of increasing fame and expanding prosperity, no student 
of this academy need ever be afraid to sing " A Man's a Man for a' that." 

In the present state of literature when the so-called 
"historical romance" leads all other forms of popular 
reading it is found that real characters make the best 
heroes for our modern writers. Most great novels are 
indeed biographies or autobiographies more or less re- 
lated to the known facts of history, and it is still gen- 
erally admitted that "Truth is stranger than fiction" 
if the proper biographer and the fit historian can be 
found to tell the tale. This is particularly true of the 
Revolutionary Period of our national history. The life 
of every noted actor in that drama, if faithfully por- 
trayed, would make a more thrilling romance than most 
of the absurdly padded, semi-historical fiction of our 
time. It is no unkind criticism which asserts that the 
closer the novelist can keep to real biography and to 
genuine history in elucidating the lives of our noted 
men and women, the more interesting, entertaining and 
instructive the result is sure to be. 

We are here to-night to consider briefly the life and 
career of one of the most noted men in this country 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 221 

during the great struggle for Independence; the man 
who (according to his colleague, Gen. Wilkinson), stood 
second only to Washington for education, talents, dis- 
position and integrity, the soldier who did his full 
share of fighting in the darkest days of our history; 
the patriot who at the last risked his all and sealed his 
devotion to his country's cause by the supreme sacri- 
fice of his own life; the fearless, faithful, valorous 
and victorious General Hugh Mercer, one of the con- 
secrated names in our most brilliant galaxy of National 
Stars ; the particular patron saint of Mercersburg, and 
a worthy example for all Mercersburg boys to emulate 
as long as the Conococheague flows into the waters of 
the Potomac. 

Hugh Mercer was a native of Aberdeenshire, Scot- 
land, having been born there in 1721. At that time 
George I. was on the British throne. While the older 
people across the Atlantic were in the throes of the 
great South Sea Bubble, the younger folks were mak- 
ing the acquaintance of the ever delightful "Robinson 
Crusoe" which had just appeared from the pen of 
Daniel Defoe. In this part of America, Sir William 
Keith, another Aberdeenshire Scotchman, was the resi- 
dent Governor of Pennsylvania and his time was mostly 
taken up conferring with the Indian tribes who were a 
constant menace to the peace of the Colonists. Mercer 
was ' ' a son of the manse, ' ' his father being minister of 
Pitsligo. This obscure place you may never have 
heard of before, but it is not without a certain kind of 
fame. The minister of the Parish in 1634 was a Rev. 
Andrew Cant who proved to be a snivelling, whining 
hypocrite imbued with such affected piety and mock hu- 
mility that, forever after, his name was used to describe 
the whole canting crew. However, if Pitsligo gave 
"Cant" to the English language, the parish made ample 
amends when it produced Hugh Mercer who had no 

16 



222 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"Can't" or "Cant" in his composition, but whose life 
motto was "I can." His father's father and grand- 
father were also ministers of the Gospel in different 
districts of Aberdeenshire. Statistics will show that 
whatever else they claim, as parents, the Clergy of 
Scotland are the mainstay of their country. In pro- 
portion to their numbers they contribute more distin- 
guished men than come from any other class, their sons 
being particularly noted in literature, religion, educa- 
tion, government, law, and war. With his ancestry 
and environment much might have been expected from 
Mercer, but his career was certainly more varied and 
dazzling than the wildest dreams of the village gossip 
or the brightest predictions of the parish "spae-wife." 
He first attracts our notice as a student of Marischal 
College, Aberdeen. This name, although spelled dif- 
ferently, has the same sound as our own Marshall 
College formerly located here, and in looking it up we 
find a double coincidence. It was founded in 1593 by 
George Keith, Fifth Earl Marischal, from whose fam- 
ily came the same Sir Wm. Keith who was Governor of 
the Province of Pennsylvania when Mercer was born. 
A brief sketch of this famous seat of learning may not 
be uninteresting to Academy boys. 

Aberdeen has two universities now united in one 
corporate body. The oldest university was founded in 
1494-95 by Wm. Elphinstone, Bishop of Aberdeen, 
with the patronage of King James IV., of Scotland, and 
the sanction of Pope Alexander VI. The Universities 
of Paris and Bologna were specially named as models 
to pattern after. The first name of this University was 
"The College of St. Mary," but at an early date it 
was changed to "King's College," by which name it 
has long been popularly known. It was under Roman 
Catholic control until 1569 when the Protestant Epis- 
copal element came into power. In 1639 the University 



GENERAL. HUGH MERCER. 223 

was associated with the Presbyterian form of church 
government, and after 1860, when it was merged with 
its sister university, King's College ceased to have a 
separate existence. Marischal College though almost 
a hundred years younger than her rival sister has been 
perhaps the greater educative force. Her alumni have 
been heard from in many distinguished fields and some 
of her sons have attained world-wide fame. What 
particularly interests us is her Chair of Medicine en- 
dowed on the 8th of August, 1700, by the Earl Marischal. 
Sixteen years later the Marischal connection with the 
College ceased, as the tenth Earl was concerned in the 
Rebellion of 1715, and had to forfeit his title and estates 
and his connection with the College in the following 
year. With all its ancient splendid history so late as 
1738, after a vigorous financial campaign, the buildings 
of Marischal College were only valued at $3,500. The 
highest subscription was one pound (about $5.00) which 
is quite a contrast to the princely donations of later 
years when one Alumnus gave $100,000 to build a new 
hall, and more recently still greater amounts have been 
presented by single individuals. 

The Chair of Medicine interests us particularly be- 
cause Hugh Mercer was a student of Medicine at Maris- 
chal College. So far as we can tell he entered the 
University in 1740 and left it in 1744 without gradu- 
ating. We next hear of him as a surgeon in Prince 
Charlie's Army. Although descended on one side from 
a long line of ministers of the gospel of peace, Mercer 
had noted fighting blood in his veins. His mother was 
Anne Munro, the daughter of Sir Eobert Munro who 
fought with distinction in the British Army on the 
Continent at Fontenoy and elsewhere. He was or- 
dered home to oppose the Young Pretender, and was 
killed while in command at the Battle of Falkirk, in 
1746. It is not improbable that his grandson, Hugh 



224 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Mercer, was his opponent on the same bloody ground. 
But the triumph of the Pretender was brief as three 
months later, on Culloden Field, the rebel army was 
completely crushed and the Stuart cause lost forever. 
It is not difficult to account for Mercer's presence 
among the Jacobites. In the North of Scotland there 
were many who espoused the cause of "Scotland's 
rightful heir," and Aberdeenshire, in particular, was 
ever loyal to the Stuarts. Mercer was of the age when 
Prince Charlie's romantic "dash for a throne" would 
have enlisted all his sympathies. He could make him- 
self especially useful as a physician and surgeon, and 
he no doubt thought he saw an excellent opportunity 
for speedy distinction in his chosen profession. Above 
all, I am of the opinion that he believed the exiled 
Prince had the right side of the contention. After the 
crushing defeat at Culloden, when every follower of 
Prince Charlie was mercilessly hounded to death, im- 
prisonment or exile, Mercer decided to take leave of 
his native land, and try his fortune beyond the sea. 
He managed to escape the vigilance of his enemies and, 
embarking at Leith, he arrived at the port of Philadel- 
phia some time in 1746. 

It is now impossible to tell why he located so far 
inland, but whatever may have been the reason, his 
first attempt to establish a home was made on the fron- 
tier of our State at a place then described as "near 
Greencastle, ' ' but now, since named in his honor, known 
to all the world as Mercersburg, Pa. Here he settled 
down to the practice of his profession. It is believed 
that Mercer's services as a physician and surgeon cov- 
ered the whole Conococheague settlement, embracing the 
entire district between Chambersburg and his own resi- 
dence. At that time this part of the country was little 
better han a wilderness and few white people were to 
be found in the vicinity. In those days the pioneeers 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 225 

themselves did most of the doctoring necessary, the 
lancet and the medicine bottle being considered among 
the rarely approachable luxuries of their semi-civilized 
life. We hear nothing of Mercer for the next few years 
but know he was living here. It must have been speci- 
ally interesting news to him when he heard of Brad- 
dock's defeat by the Indians in 1755, as only nine years 
previous he had himself opposed Braddock on the ill- 
fated "Dnimmossie Moor." 

Emboldened by their success the Indians became more 
and more troublesome and in self defence the Col- 
onists formed themselves into companies of Rangers, 
of one of which Dr. Mercer was appointed captain. 
His commission is dated March 9, 1756, and his super- 
ior officer was Colonel Armstrong, a native of Ireland. 
Mercer's territory extended from the Welsh Run dis- 
trict and Mercersburg into remote regions along the 
foothills. The present village of Bridgeport was for- 
merly the location of McDowell's Fort, and Mercer 
frequently made his headquarters there, acting as sur- 
geon to the garrison as well as attending to his regular 
military duties. In one of his Indian fights he was se- 
verely wounded and having been left behind by his re- 
treating companions he narrowly escaped with his life. 
Closely pursued by his savage foes he providentially 
found a place of safety in the hollow trunk of a tree 
around which the Indians rested, and discussed the 
prospect of scalping him in the near future. When 
they had taken their departure he struck out in another 
direction and completely outwitted them. Sick with 
his wounds and worn out with his recent struggles he 
began a lonely march of over a hundred miles through 
an unbroken forest, but finally succeeded in joining the 
remnant of his command at Fort Cumberland. To sus- 
tain existence he had been compelled to live on roots 
and herbage, an occasional rattle-snake proving his 



226 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

most nourishing and palatable meal. He was with the 
force that surprised and destroyed the Indian village 
at Kittanning in 1756, but was severely wounded in 
that encounter, and once more counted among the 
missing. For the second time he had to use all his wits 
to manoeuvre and march through the woods, half fam- 
ished for lack of food and faint from the loss of blood, 
until he succeeded in joining his surviving companions. 
Such energy and bravery elicited the applause of all 
who knew his experiences, and in appreciation of his 
services and sufferings the Corporation of Philadelphia 
presented him with a vote of thanks and a beautiful 
memorial medal. In the summer of 1757, Mercer was 
made commander of the garrison in the fort at Ship- 
pensburg, and in December of the same year was ap- 
pointed Major of the forces of the Province of Penn- 
sylvania posted west of the Susquehanna. In the fol- 
lowing year General Forbes made his expedition 
against Fort Duquesne accompanied by Mercer with 
his troops. 

It was on this memorable march that Mercer first met 
George Washington, then a brigadier-general of Vir- 
ginia troops. In a short time the men became the 
warmest friends, and established an intimacy that was 
only broken by the lamented death of the dashing 
Scotchman. We can easily imagine what pleasure the 
two soldiers must have had in exchanging their experi- 
ences and discussing the stirring topics of the time. By 
all his biographers Mercer's modesty is especially em- 
phasized. He had nothing to be ashamed of in his past 
history, but much for which any man might feel proud. 
That he won the highest admiration and permanent 
affection of such a noble character as Washington is 
sufficient to rank Mercer with the best and greatest men 
of his age, and particularly to enshrine him in the 
hearts of all Americans. It is owing to this friendship, 
however, that Mercersburg lost Hugh Mercer. 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 227 

After the conclusion of the French and Indian War, 
and the evacuation of the western forts by the French 
garrisons, Mercer, who had been promoted to the rank 
of Colonel, temporarily retired from military life ; and, 
yielding to the solicitations of his friend Washington, 
removed from his home in the Pennsylvania wilderness 
to Fredericksburg, Va., where he again took up the 
practice of medicine. At that time although also thinly 
settled, this part of Virginia contained the homes of 
many of the most distinguished families on the con- 
tinent. They gave Mercer the cordial welcome to 
which his education and talents entitled him, rein- 
forced by his brilliant career as a military man and 
supplemented by the brotherly love and many favors 
shown him by General Washington. In the near neigh- 
borhood was the plantation and home of his already 
famous countryman, Paul Jones, who was destined to 
be the founder of the American Navy, and the first man 
to fly the American flag. Paul Jones by sea and Hugh 
Mercer by shore, certainly upheld the fighting reputa- 
tion of the * ' Mitherland. " Mt. Vernon was not far 
away, and Mercer was a frequent and always welcome 
visitor. 

We have striking proof of this in the testimony of a 
traveller who paid a visit to Fredericksburg prior to the 
Revolution, but who did not record his observations 
until 1784. He says: 

"I called upon my worthy and intimate friend Dr. Hugh 
Mercer, a physician of great merit and eminence and a man 
possessed of almost every virtue and accomplishment. . . . 
Dr. Hugh Mercer was afterwards a brigadier general in the 
American Army, to accept of which appointment I have rea- 
son to believe he was greatly influenced by Gen. Washington, 
with whom he had been long in intimacy and bonds of friend- 
ship." 



228 HEBE AND THERE IIST TWO HEMISPHERES. 

And then the writer gives this strange reason, which 
^we must remember comes from a loyal Briton at a 
period very trying to British loyalty. He wishes to 
Ibe as charitable as he can to Mercer's motives for es- 
pousing the American cause, and in searching for an 
excuse he puts the blame for Mercer's defection on the 
broad shoulders of his Virginia friend and neighbor. 
He says: 

' ' For Dr. Mercer was generally of a just and moderate way 
of thinking, and possessed liberal sentiments and a generosity 
of principle very uncommon among those with whom he em- 
barked. ' ' 

It need not be questioned that Washington and Mer- 
cer confined their talk to reminiscences of Indian wars. 
Ominous political clouds were gathering in the colonial 
sky, and the perilous situation was quickly and fully 
realized by the patriotic Virginian. When the general 
British order went forth to seize all military stores in 
the colonies, the Americans made prompt resistance 
without further parleying. Massachusetts was speedily 
followed by Virginia and almost the first important 
item we find is that Dr. Hugh Mercer was drilling 
a partially organized body of Virginia men to be ready 
for any emergency. In deference to more conservative 
counsel the volunteers, by a majority of one, voted to 
disperse for a time, "to meet again some other day" if 
the need should arise. They did not have long to wait. 
Patrick Henry's prediction in his immortal speech was 
speedily fulfilled, and when "the next gale from the 
north brought the clash of resounding arms" the pa- 
triots of Virginia commenced to organize for immediate 
fighting. On the first ballot for first Colonel of the First 
Virginia Eegiment Mercer received 41 votes to Henry's 
40, but ultimately Henry was awarded the signal honor. 
May my pride be forgiven me if I say that to me this 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 229 

choice has a special interest as it was Aberdeen pitted 
against Aberdeen, Patrick Henry's father having also 
come from my native granite-bound shire which has 
ever been a Rock of Defence in time of need and a "Wall 
of Resistance against oppression! To Mercer was as- 
signed the Colonelcy of the Third Regiment of Vir- 
ginia. That he was no mere schemer for office is so well 
known that it hardly needs to be mentioned, but if any 
evidence were necessary we have a beautiful proof of it 
in his simple proffer of services to the Virginia Con- 
vention. It has recently come to light and here it is 
in full: 

"Hugh Mercer will serve his adopted country and 
the cause of liberty in any rank or station to which he 
may be assigned." 

For brevity, clearness and comprehensiveness this 
note could not easily be surpassed, and it shows that 
Mercer could write as well as fight. 

When at Fredericksburg, Mercer was a member of 
Masonic Lodge No. 4, a Lodge which gave no less than 
five general officers to the Continental Army, including 
the Commander-inChief. 

Congress having adopted the Virginia troops as a 
part of the Continental Army, Mercer was not long 
permitted to remain a colonel but on the urgent recom- 
mendation of Washington was made a brigadier-general. 
His commission is dated June 5, 1776, and his assign- 
ment "with the Army around New York." It is not 
necessary to follow him in all the details of his later 
career. He was strenuously opposed to the evacuation 
of New York, and on other important occasions differed 
with Washington, but never sulked or kept back because 
he could not have his own way. The two generals had 
many discussions together, and some of them have been 
reported to us. In one of the darkest periods of the 
Revolution, "What think you," said Washington to 



230 HEEB AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Mercer, "if we should retreat to the back parts of 
Pennsylvania. Would the Pennsylvanians support 
us I ' ' This was a question put to a man who knew the 
backwoods of Pennsylvania, who had resided there for 
many years, and who might lean to mercy's side in his 
desire to speak well of his old acquaintances. Yet he 
could not deceive his Chief —he was another man who 
could not tell a lie— so Mercer answered candidly, "If 
the lower counties give up, the back counties will do 
the same." But even this did not faze the dauntless 
Washington. He said they could retire to Virginia, and 
if out-generaled there, they could cross the Allegha- 
nies! Can we ever repay the debt we owe to such a 
spirit that in the gloomiest and most hopeless periods 
of the struggle could neither be broken, nor subdued, 
nor discouraged? But as it happened, the Americans 
did not have to take either to the South or to cross the 
western mountains. 

It is stated on good authority that the idea of at- 
tacking the British Army at Trenton originated with 
Mercer, and he certainly did his full share to wrest 
success from such a hazardous exploit. He is also cred- 
ited with the plan of the battle at Princeton. It was 
equally as daring a venture as the crossing of the Dela- 
ware, as a single break in the American calculations 
meant untold disaster. All went well through the night, 
but in the early hours of the 3d of January, 1777, the 
American troops were surprised by the 17th British 
Eegiment under Col. Mawhood. Mercer, on a fine 
grey horse, occupied the post of honor in the front, and 
at the first volley from the enemy his horse was brought 
down and his most trusted lieutenant, Col. Hazlett, 
killed. Such bad luck had a depressing effect on the 
American troops and when Mawhood 's soldiers charged 
on Mercer's men with bayonets, the American riflemen 
without bayonets could not resist the attack. Mercer 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 231 

was unable to extricate himself from his wounded horse 
in time to defend himself. The enemy rushed upon him 
in overpowering numbers, and called on him to surren- 
der, which he could not do. Single handed and alone he 
defended himself with his sword, and succeeded in kill- 
ing not a few of his assailants. But the odds were too 
much against him. He was struck down and clubbed 
with the butt ends of innumerable muskets, repeatedly 
stabbed with bayonets, and left for dead on the field. At 
this juncture Washington made his appearance and by 
his presence and personal bravery inspired the Ameri- 
can Army with such fresh courage that a glorious vic- 
tory was plucked from a foreshadowed defeat. It was 
not the last battle to be fought against the oppressors, 
but it was the turning point in the struggle for Ameri- 
can Independence. Such a momentous occasion was 
fitly but dearly consecrated by the death of Mercer. 
He lingered for only a few days after his desperate en- 
counter, expiring in the arms of Major Lewis, who had 
been sent by his distinguished uncle, General Wash- 
ington, to minister to the wants of the dying hero.* 

That Mercer had some premonition of his fate 
seems credible when we read the report of his con- 
versation with his brother officers on the eve of the 
battle of Princeton. 

"We are not engaged," said he, "in a war of ambition, 
or I should not have been here. Every man should be content 
to serve in that station in which he can be most useful. For 
my part I have but one object in view and that is the success 
of the cause, and God can witness how cheerfully I would 
lay down my life to secure it." 



* Although it is now more than 126 years since the Battle of Prince- 
ton only the other day I talked to a man who received a graphic account 
of the fight from one of the American participants; just as I, myself, 
have talked to several Waterloo veterans, and may be able to repeat 
their tale, at first hand, for fifty years to come. 



232 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

He knew the great risk that was wrapped in the 
movement which he had planned, and he refused to 
occupy any position but the most dangerous one— at the 
front of the marching army. 

It is no exaggeration to say his death was lamented 
by the whole American people. No one enjoyed to 
a greater extent than he the affectionate confidence of 
the army, his fellow officers, and his illustrious chief. 
When General Lafayette arrived in this country in the 
spring after Mercer's death he found the whole army 
and country so full of Mercer's name, the impression 
left on Lafayette's mind was that Mercer was a per- 
sonal friend. The city of Philadelphia gave him a pub- 
lic funeral, said to have been attended by over 30,000 
persons. The Continental Congress ordered a monu- 
ment to be erected to his memory at Fredericksburg.* 
It also undertook the education of his infant son. He 
was a member of the St. Andrew's Society of Phila- 
delphia, and, in addition to caring for his grave in 
Laurel Hill Cemetery, it is the custodian of his 
sword now deposited with the Historical Society of 
Philadelphia. 

General Mercer married a Miss Isabella Gordon and 
they were the parents of several children who with 
their mother survived him. A son and a daughter left 
descendants, many of whom are still living in Virginia 
and Georgia. One of his grandsons was Brigadier 
General Hugh W. Mercer of Savannah, Ga. Two 
great-grandsons, like their illustrious progenitors, died 
on the field of battle, Col. Geo. S. Patton in Virginia, 
and Col. Tazewell Patton at Gettysburg. Their father 
was John Mercer Patton, a Congressman and Governor 
of Virginia, and for many years the recognized leader 

* This was overlooked, but only last year Congress re-opened the 
matter, and voted the amount necessary for an appropriate Mercer 
memorial. 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 233 

of the Richmond Bar. His father was a Scotch mer- 
chant named Patton and his mother the daughter of 
General Hugh Mercer. In the old country many of his 
kin are to be found but none have given such promin- 
ence to the name as he did himself. 

For the few days before his death he was tenderly 
nursed by Mrs. Clark and daughter into whose home he 
had been carried, and, in addition to Washington's 
nephew, it is worth mentioning that Dr. Rush of Phil- 
adelphia was also at Mercer 's bedside doing everything 
possible to alleviate his sufferings. In that short time 
he had opportunity to review his life and muse upon 
the leading scenes in his strange and varied career. In 
fancy's flight we can sympathetically follow the pan- 
orama from his earliest years until the final drop of the 
curtain. 

We see his as a restless boy in the little parish 
manse, and hear him discuss with his father the great 
topics of religion and politics. We follow him to 
Aberdeen and are with him at Marischal College while 
he studied art and medicine. We accompany him as 
under the Stuart flag he marches off to the stirring tune 
of "Wha'll be King but Charlie." We are by his side 
when "the clans of Culloden are scattered in flight." 
We watch him "hounded like a hunted hare" until he 
ships at Leith to seek another clime. We see him make 
his way from the seacoast until he finds a foot-hold 
here. 

We are with him until the end: When he leads his 
little band of Rangers against the treacherous Indians ; 
when he is wounded and left behind, alone to thread 
his way, faint and suffering, through the pathless 
jungle; when he meets his old opponents, and Brad- 
dock's immortal aide, Col. George Washington. We 
can overhear them as they sit around the campfires 
swapping stories of the days gone by. We see him in 



234 HEBE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

his home at Fredericksburg dispensing medicine and 
good advice to any patient who may choose to call ; or 
note him as he drills his raw recruits upon the city's 
grassy squares. We see him at Mt. Vernon the hon- 
ored guest of Washington, and later, when made a 
brigadier general, the inseparable companion of his 
great commander. 

The war is on, and we see him bid farewell to wife 
and children and take his last look of "the green fields 
of Virginia. ' ' We are with him in New York and hear 
him urge his chief to change their war-tactics from the 
defensive to the offensive, promising to lead where any 
would dare to follow. We cross the Delaware with 
him and share his triumph at the Battle of Trenton. We 
accompany him to the council-of-war when he plans and 
urges the march on Princeton, and we are by him when 
the British red-coats take him by surprise and make his 
men stampede. We see him fall, and rise, and fall 
again. We hear the hoarse shouts of the enemy as they 
call on him to surrender; but he has faced death too 
often to fear it now. We see him struggling with 
countless numbers— one man against a whole regiment 
—by his trusty sword making them pay dearly for 
their brief success. We see him carried from his ' ' gory 
bed" and are with him as he sinks into his well-earned 
rest. No remorse! No regrets! No complaints! He 
is still comparatively young and in the ordinary course 
of nature might have lived for many years. But his 
time draws near. "What is to be, is to be! Good-bye, 
dear native land! Farewell, adopted country! I have 
done my best for you! Into thy care, 0, America, I 
commit my fatherless family! May God prosper our 
righteous cause! Amen!!" Such was his final prayer. 
His race was run, his labor over! 



GENERAL HUGH MERCER. 235 

AVhat death could finer laurels buy? 

What grander ending can there be 
Than for a noble man to die 

To help to make his country free? 
Although the day was dearly bought, 

'Twas there the Tyrant's doom was sealed, 
So not in vain the fight was fought 

When Mercer fell on Princeton Field! 

His sword will waste away with rust, 

And tho' 'twere wrapped in cloth of gold 
Within the grave his precious dust 

In time will mingle with the mould; 
But he, himself, is canonized 

If saintly deeds such fame can give, 
For long as Liberty is prized 

Hugh Mercer's name shall surely live! 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 

Who cannot live in London Town 

Need nowhere else attempt to live 
Since London holds for King or clown 

The best and worst that Life can give 

However viewed, London may honestly be styled in- 
teresting. Even her statistics excite one ? s fancy. Her 
population in 1901 was 4,536,063; Greater London, 
6,581,372, and London and immediate suburbs, 8,039,- 
204. The postomce alone employs 32,000 persons, and 
they take care of 600,000,000 letters annually. She 
has only 960 firemen, but 15,890 policemen are needed 
to protect citizens and property. In my opinion, she is 
abominably behind the age in the matter of transpor- 
tation. I did not see a trolley car in all my wander- 
ings, but horse-cars in abundance, and 'busses, it 
seemed, were everywhere. There are about 3,600 of 
them, plying in all directions, and the two-wheeled cabs 
number 7,500, against 4,000 four-wheelers and about 
100 motor-cars. She has underground trains and tubes, 
but everything bunched together does not begin to cope 
with the needs of the city. Much valuable time is lost 
in going anywhere, a block of an hour in a congested 
district being nothing unusual. Glasgow is immeasur- 
ably ahead of London in this respect, and it must help 
in putting the Scotch city forward.* 

The House of Parliament. 
One of the first places I visited was the House of Par- 
liament at Westminster. I have several acquaintances 

* Even our own Lancaster could afford to laugh at the antiquated, 
rickety, slow-moving vehicles of the world's greatest city. There is 
certainly room for a traction magnate in London, and, Given the right 
man, nothing but millions could flow into his purse, and municipal 
blessings in his train. Think over it, William B.! Mr. Yerkes is 
making an attempt. 

236 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 237 

who are members there, but decided to select Sir Wil- 
liam Allan as my " guide, philosopher and friend," and 
splendidly did he acquit himself. Sir William is a fine 
Scot, sixty-five years old, and in his gray homespuns 
among a monotony of black reminded me at once of 
my old friend, Walt Whitman. Allan is a poet, too, of 
no mean quality, with over a dozen volumes to his 
credit, including tender Doric lilts, and vigorous Eng- 
lish verse. In business, I believe, he is an engine and 
boiler builder, and, having had lots of experience, he 
quite naturally soon became known as a Parliamentary 
naval expert, and is now so conceded by both parties. 
It will interest Americans to know that when a very 
young man he worked at Paterson, N. J.; was also a 
blockade runner in the Civil War, and finished up as a 
prisoner in Richmond, Va. That was his last experi- 
ence of the United States. He has been in Parliament 
ten years,* and, in spite of his well-known Democratic 
tendencies, his knighthood came to him ungrudgingly 
and to the satisfaction of everybody. He told me the 
members of Parliament have no salary and no per- 
quisites, except stationery. They have even to pay for 
their postage stamps! For that reason only men of 
independent means can sit in the House, the few excep- 
tions being labor-leaders, like John Burns and Keir 
Hardie, who are paid a salary ( and a small one) by their 
constituents. Occasionally, also, a rich man backs a 

* When Allan first came out as a Parliamentary candidate his 
opponents accused him of having been " a pirate." His Civil War 
record and his leonine look no doubt suggested the terrible name. 
That he is a brave man goes without saying, and yet he confesses he 
was once thoroughly scared when bathing in the sea. He was enjoy- 
ing his " dook " without any thought of danger when he realized that 
a monster shark was after him, and none too soon did he see it, as it 
was hungry, and was just turning itself to gobble him up, when by an 
extraordinary effort he escaped. Sir William's autobiography will make 
rare reading as his life has been a stirring one and he has the literary 
ability to tell it well. 

17 



238 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEBES. 

young fellow of promise, and sometimes a small office 
is given to a few, enabling them to live by their pro- 
fession ; but, on the whole, a membership in Parliament 
is only for rich men. Sir William took me in hand in 
good time, and, under his guidance and intelligent com- 
ment, I saw everything of interest in both Houses. The 
House of Lords is a far more gorgeous place than the 
Commons, the carving and decorations being unusually 
magnificent. All the woodwork of both Houses is ex- 
clusively of British oak, in itself a good lesson in 
patriotism. I saw the Lord High Chancellor sitting as 
President of the Appellate Court, but noticed little dif- 
ference from an ordinary Assize meeting; indeed, the 
pomp and glory of the Lancaster (England) Assizes 
would have completely eclipsed Lord Halsbury's mod- 
est display. The upper House takes things much easier 
than the lower, often sitting less than an hour. On the 
day I was there they rushed all their business through 
in fifteen minutes. 

The Notables op the House. 

In the lobby of the House, as the members began to 
gather, Sir William pointed out the notables to me. I 
was interested in seeing Mr. Herbert Gladstone, a son 
of the Grand Old Man, but failed to note any resem- 
blance to his illustrious father. He has a great handi- 
cap and shows pluck in taking up a Parliamentary 
career. Another notable character was Xavier 'Brien, 
an Irish member. He had the last high treason sen- 
tence passed upon him — "to be hanged, drawn and 
quartered"— but there he was, as gentle as a mouse, 
going to his place to help in the making or obstructing 
of the Imperial Laws. Most of the Irish members 
were at their homes when I was present, having made 
some agreement to absent themselves during the dis- 
cussion of the Education bill. I was fortunate in seeing 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 239 

the Speaker's march to the chair preceded by the Mace 
Bearer, and followed by his own Train Bearer, Chaplain 
and other officials. It is a custom dating back to almost 
Norman times. As the procession approaches the 
lobby the Police Sergeant shouts, "Hats off, strang- 
ers ! ' ' and all uncover, the pages make obsequious bows 
and the march ends with the opening prayer, which Sir 
William informed me, was only for sinners, so few 
members pay any attention to it. 

In the House Galleky. 

Prior to this I had been escorted through every room 
and saw all the precious relics and curiosities that are to 
be seen at every turn. Having secured a ticket from 
the speaker, endorsed by my friend, I lost no time in 
getting into the gallery. There was much red tape to 
go through, however, before I finally reached my seat. 
I noticed all tickets were collected, and wished to keep 
mine as a souvenir,— an unheard of request. But all 
the same I succeeded and I have it now, and I lost no 
privileges by my audacity. My allotment was a centre 
seat in the front row, the choicest in the whole room. 
I looked right down on the House and could have 
dropped my hat on Balfour's head had I been so dis- 
posed. Opposite the strangers' gallery, behind and 
above the Speaker 's chair, is the press gallery, the most 
conspicuous member of it at present being "Toby, M. 
P.," Mr. W. H. Lucy. Back of this, and still nearer 
the sky, is the grille set apart for the ladies. Poor 
things, the lattice work is so close they must be in semi- 
darkness. All I could see of them was the white of 
their boas and muffs and feathers. For all the world 
they reminded me of birds in a cage at the Zoo ! It is 
very ungallant to treat them so, and I cannot give the 
explanation. 

The first business of Parliament was the asking of 



240 HEBE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

questions by various members on every conceivable 
variety of topics. The questions were all printed on 
the schedule (copies of which were furnished to each 
visitor as he took his seat), referred to in speaking by 
numbers, and almost every member of the Cabinet had 
the pleasure (?) of discussing three or four. In this 
way one soon got acquainted with the leaders of the 
administration. The House is divided into two sec- 
tions — the government party being on the Speaker's 
right, and the opposition on the left. Most members 
sit with their hats on, and all of them in every conceiv- 
able attitude but what good society manners demand. 
The fantasticalities of dress appear to crop out most in 
their methods of wearing their watch chains. Such a 
display as I saw would excite the envy of a Bowery 
swell or Atlantic City dude. 

Balfour and Bryce. 

Remembering the glorious history of the House of 
Commons in the past, I cannot but think that it is now 
in the hands of a race of pigmies. The Government is 
unquestionably in a big majority, but it cannot be 
credited to the brilliancy of its leaders. Balfour, Scot 
though he is, I consider a mediocre man. Some men 
are born clever— he was born rich and lucky, and tired. 
I can only account for him being Premier because he is 
Lord Salisbury's nephew, "Sister Blanche's boy." 
He is an atrocious failure as an orator. Any Lancas- 
ter High School boy, with a month's coaching, would do 
as well. He chaws, claws and paws, mutters and 
stutters, backs and fills, chips and planes, and even 
saws, with painful progress, in full view of the house. 
His matter is equally poor, his inaccuracy being notor- 
ious. When seated, he is most of the time yawning, or 
apparently in a doze. It makes one sleepy to look at 
him in many of his attitudes. But he has a fairly good 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 241 

presence, and to his credit it can be said: He has the 
look of innocence, and can even blush on occasions. One 
feels that nobody can disturb him with threats of raking 
up his Past. This is a high gift to a statesman. Some 
men, eloquent and able, give you at once the impression 
of trickiness, and they can never rise above the im- 
pression. But Balfour makes you feel unhesitatingly, 
"Well, he's honest, anyhow," and you cannot help 
liking him, with all his faults.* The best man I heard 
in Parliament was Professor James Bryce, M. P. for 
Aberdeen. His "American Commonwealth" has 
made him known to all the world. He has not much of 
a presence, but he speaks clearly, cleanly, with em- 
phasis and no impedient. You are satisfied he is a good 
thinker, and his speeches read even better than they 
seemed to be when heard. All told, I heard about forty 
different speakers, and there was not one among them 
all that would compare favorably with half a dozen of 
our home orators. How I wished they could have been 
there to have shown the British how to conduct a de- 
bate! Public speaking demands much practice early 
in life. The bulk of the Commons are men who made 
their fortunes in business, retiring after fifty, and 
without any experience in "thinking on their feet" be- 
fore an audience. The result is that they cannot ex- 
press themselves in public, and generally relapse into 

* It must be distinctly understood that I refer here only to the im- 
pressions Mr. Balfour as a public man made on me. I know that he is 
a scholar, even a philosopher, and am also familiar enough with his 
history to believe that he made one of the best Secretaries for Ireland 
Britain ever had. His good nature and his love for outdoor sports are 
also worthy of praise, and his speeches when they finally reach print 
read much better than the average. But viewing him as Prime Min- 
ister, with my high ideal of what the Leader of the House should be — 
particularly graceful in speech and strong and ready in debate — he 
was an unqualified disappointment, and a most provoking one con- 
sidering he is from the right country and has had so long an oratorical 
experience. 



242 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

mere voters at divisions. Eeading from manuscript is 
not tolerated in the House of Commons, although 
copious notes are permitted. "When I was there the 
Education bill was the engrossing topic in Parliament, 
and the feeling on both sides seemed to be bitter. 
America settled the same question some years ago, and 
sooner or later Great Britain must follow the course of 
the United States. To give any particular sect or 
church control of secular education is so very far wrong 
that Americans may well be pardoned for viewing the 
whole business with amazement. The Church of Eng- 
land, it seems to me, is merely playing the role of tyrant, 
and where that fails she does not hesitate to act as 
beggar. Justice-loving Englishmen will not tolerate 
such an imposition, and, although the bill passed, I pre- 
dict that the taxes will be resisted by all the noncon- 
formists and a small revolution precipitated. It also 
means a change of government, and I think, in the near 
future— disestablishment in earnest— so let the band 
play, the best dancing will come the sooner. 

Westminster Abbey. 

Over the way from St. Stephen's is Westminster 
Abbey, with its tombs and monuments, unequalled, per- 
haps, in the world. It is overwhelmingly rich in me- 
morials of great men. At every step almost you tread 
on the grave of some immortal. Amongst the recent 
additions are the remains of Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone. 
Here also are the graves of Garrick, Samuel Johnson, 
Thomas Campbell, Dickens, Tennyson, Browning, and 
a long line of poets, back to rare Ben Johnson, Spenser 
and Chaucer. I was pleased to notice a bust of Long- 
fellow; and a James Buchanan's name appears in con- 
nection with the monument to Andre, whose final rest- 
ing place is here. The Chapel of Henry VII. contains 
the dust of Kings and Queens innumerable, some bitter 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 243 

enemies, like Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary, now 
sleeping quietly almost side by side. Addison is buried 
in this chapel. In the part called ''The Chapel of the 
Kings" there is preserved the royal dust of many cen- 
turies, going as far back as Edward the Conqueror, who 
finished his career in 1066. I took special note of the 
big stone box containing the remains of Edward I. 
(known as Longshanks),* but better remembered by 
my countrymen as "The Hammer of the Scots." He 
gave them some good thumps, but it all ended in Ban- 
nockburn a few years after his death. It was some 
satisfaction to me (against orders, as usual) to put my 
hand on his coffin and offer a silent prayer that his sleep 
might be sweet, as he has long ago been forgiven— I 
fear as many others often are— because his efforts have 
been completely nullified. It is easy to be merciful to 
a defeated enemy! His tomb was opened in 1774 and 
the remains found to be in a good state of preservation. 
His height was six feet two inches, but probably he was 
all legs. In this room is the famous coronation chair, 
first used by Edward III., and by every monarch since, 
including Edward VII. a few months ago. It is, in its 
bareness, a mean-looking chair, but what a history 
clusters around it! Beneath the seat is the Scotch 
"Stone of Destiny," said to be the one on which Jacob 
rested his head when he saw the angels ascending and 
descending on the ladder that reached from earth to 
Heaven, t Close by the chair are the sword and shield, 

* He was in Kildrummy, Auchindoir and the Cabrach with his Army 
of Conquest. 

fThe Scotch Kings have been crowned on this stone since the days of 
Fergus the First, a good Irishman, who founded the royal dynasty 
of Scotland in 330 B. C. ! ! ! All I have to say in regard to the Jacobean 
legend is that the stone is good Scotch sandstone, but, of course, the 
same variety may be found in Palestine, or, perhaps, after all, Scot- 
land was the home of the patriarch. After conclusively proving that 
Pontius Pilate was a Scotchman, I am ready to believe almost anything 
in regard to the products of that misty and mystical little land. 



244 HERB AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

also used at coronations. The sword is seven feet long 
and weighs eighteen pounds. 

St. Paul's Cathedral. 

A second Westminster Abbey is St. Paul 's Cathedral. 
It is crowded with fine statues, and the crypt full of the 
graves of many notables. Some of the epitaphs I have 
noticed in my chapter on "Voices from the Tombs." 
Both here and in Westminster Abbey I could not 
overcome the feeling of stuffiness and a desire to get out 
into the open air. How much finer a simple grave in 
some secluded vale, sheltered by a friendly wooded hill, 
with a little stream close at hand, singing a perpetual 
requiem ! I should even prefer Bun-hill Field, which I 
visited to see the graves of Isaac Watts, John Bunyan 
and Daniel Defoe. Over the way is the grave of John 
Wesley, one of the greatest men of his time, and a 
power for good unquestionably. By accident, I passed 
the grave of Geo. B. Du Maurier, at Hampstead, but it 
took me some time to find the last resting place of dear 
Oliver Goldsmith, one of the most charming writers 
of the English language. I found it at last, in the pre- 
cincts of Fleet street, near the Temple Church, and also 
had an opportunity of seeing the house where Noll re- 
sided when in London. 

Sidney Lee. 

Now for a few more lines about the living. One Sun- 
day I had a great treat at the South End Ethical So- 
ciety, where the services were conducted by Sidney 
Lee, editor of the Dictionary of National Biography, 
and of world-wide fame as a Shakespearean scholar. 
His lecture was on Sir Walter Ealeigh, and as he un- 
folded his hero's career, and told of his intimate con- 
nection with America, I could not help but think "What 
a fine lecture for American audiences. ' ' After the con- 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 245 

gregation dispersed I had a delightful chat with Mr. 
Lee, and on mentioning my impressions he told me his 
paper was the first draft of a lecture to be given at the 
Lowell Institute, Boston, and possibly, also at Johns 
Hopkins University. It was to be Mr. Lee's first visit 
to our country, and he sailed in January. I suggested 
to him that he should come well-primed with Shake- 
spearean lectures, and he said he would take my advice. 
Since then he has paid us his visit, and was received 
with great interest wherever he spoke, his Shake- 
spearean talks being particularly enjoyed. 

Dr. Robertson Nicoll. 

The balance of the day I spent with my fellow- vil- 
lageman, Dr. Robertson Nicoll, in his lovely home, at 
Frognall in the Hampstead District. Dr. Nicoll has 
proved himself to be one of the most successful editor- 
managers of modern times, and has been the means of 
bringing before the world such famous writers as 
Barrie, Crockett, Ian MacLaren, and a host of others, 
almost as well known. He is himself a charming 
writer, and a most prolific one. His good-looking and 
accomplished daughter showed me, as a recent addition 
to his triumphs, a finely-bound copy of Dr. Nicoll 's 
"Incarnate Saviour," printed in Japanese, and a dupli- 
cate of the volume presented by the publishers to the 
Prince Imperial. His house is a veritable literary mu- 
seum, being packed full of personal souvenirs from the 
most noted authors of the day. And books!— they are 
everywhere — rows upon rows, with double and triple 
shelving to augment the space, and yet the overflow has 
almost carpeted the floors of the big study. I felt very 
much at home here. Dr. Nicoll has an English wife, 
but she is a treasure, and watches lovingly over her 
precious charge. His health is only fair, and his un- 
remitting industry, in spite of it, is a rebuke to stronger 



246 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

men. We had a fine "twa-handed Scotch crack, " 
which gave me much incentive and encouragement. I 
was surprised to hear Dr. Nicoll say that of all the 
learned men he had met— and he has been intimate 
with the world's best— the ablest was a native of our 
own parish, Henry Stephen by name, and now a pro- 
fessor in Calcutta. But for an unfortunate morbid 
taint which stopped him from composition, Dr. Nicoll 
believes Stephen has the genius in him to make him one 
of the three profoundest writers of our age. All knowl- 
edge is his province, and that now means infinitely 
more than it did in Lord Bacon's time. I remember 
Stephen fairly well, and it was a lucky find of a box of 
his old books that gave me my first appetite for serious 
and systematic reading. 

Dr. Nicoll has been in America, and we had a pleas- 
ant exchange of impressions of that country. That the 
Doctor's opinion, on the whole, was not unfavorable, 
may be gleaned from his assertion that if he were a 
younger man he would go to the States. He thinks, 
however, journalists are in a better position in Britain 
than in America. They are paid as well, and their 
standing is superior. Dr. Nicoll edits his many maga- 
zines from his own house, his secretaries coming and 
going as need demands. At most, he only gives a day 
a week to his city office, finding in the seclusion of his 
own library the best atmosphere for good work. He 
says he would not have a telephone in his room for a 
thousand pounds a year, and I can quite well appreciate 
his reasons. Dr. Nicoll 's summer home is in his native 
village of Lumsden, at the Old Manse where he was 
born. His father was the greatest Book collector in 
Scotland, and, what is more, read every book he owned. 
But he has not left a line of writing, putting it off and 
off under the curious presentiment that to begin to write 
was the beginning of his end, just as some people have 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 247 

a dread of insuring, and of making their wills, in the 
fear that by doing so they somehow hasten their death. 
Dr. Nicoll believes his father was the greatest "Book- 
man" he ever knew, and I think the name of the maga- 
zine may have been suggested by this remembrance. I 
discussed with Dr. Nicoll the old question of Johnson's 
indebtedness to Boswell.* My own opinion is, that if 
Boswell did not make Johnson he greatly improved 
him, and I could give abundant proof to support my 
assertion. Dr. Nicoll thinks the success of BoswelPs 
life is to be found in the fact that Boswell made instant 
note of conversations, even writing when Johnson was 
present. This gives a freshness and a fullness that no 
after- jottings could produce. Such a "Life" cannot be 
duplicated now, as no one would tolerate a scribe fuss- 
ing around him, and it would be impossible to take a 
report unknown to the talkers. Dr. Nicoll greatly ad- 
mired Johnson's independence of mind and utter care- 
lessness with regard to the opinions that others might 
have concerning him, believing he spoke and wrote 
absolutely without fear or favor. The more I read of 
the ' ' Life, ' ' the more I think of Boswell, and only regret 
he did not give us everything as he had at first intended 
to do. But much of his book passed under Johnson's 
own eye, and the biographer may have been "toned 
down ' ' more than he cared to admit. That he was not 
"polished up" is shown by his successful reports which 
Johnson did not see. The poor despised Scot has cer- 
tainly reached us with the highest honors of all his 
brilliant circle. Even Johnson must not have thought 
much of BoswelPs work, when in his last days he de- 
liberately overlooked it, and requested somebody Haw- 

* Since my return to Lancaster I have found in my library a book 
with the statement that Dr. NicolFs home is the very house where John- 
son wrote " The Vanity of Human Wishes." The Lexicographer had 
some funny experiences with ghosts in his lifetime. Perhaps his shade 
was hovering near us while we talked about him! 



248 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

kins to write the "official" biography. If we only 
knew Johnson from the Hawkinade — or even from 
Johnson's own writings— the stuffed Sage of Grub 
street would hardly be known at all. 

In Dr. Nicoll 's pleasant literary home I met the 
Misses Quiller-Couch, who, with their brother, "Q," 
have made us all better acquainted with their native 
Cornwall. There was also present Professor Adam, 
another "unspeakable" Scot, who had invaded Eng- 
land, and, at a salary of £1,000 per annum, had taken a 
professorship (of education) at King's College, Uni- 
versity of London. Dr. Nicoll enjoys the personal 
friendship of the best people of the age, and if he could 
afford it every hour of his time would be utilized by 
friendly visits. But he has his work to do— and enjoys 
it— so that he can only "receive" sparingly. I felt I 
was specially privileged in being given such a long 
interview, the best parts of which, however, with their 
reminiscent flavor and personal references, cannot be 
reproduced here. When we came downstairs to tea, by 
universal consent little "Babbits" became the queen 
of the circle. It delighted me very much to see Dr. 
Nicoll as a family man. A house with a baby is 
founded on a rock. He told Mildred a wonderful 
story about an animal that had been doing terrible 
things ; and after her bright eyes were as big as saucers 
listening to the hushed narration, it was interesting to 
see her wake from her reverie at the climax— " and— 
I— think— it— was— a— LION ! ! ! " It reminded me of 
the mysterious terror of my young days— which no 
doubt Dr. Nicoll heard of too— "an auV shee lyin doon 
at the Breem!" 

Dr. Nicoll is yet a young man, as literary men are 
graded— being only in the neighborhood of fifty; and 
I was surprised to hear him say he considered he was 
old, and that when a man reaches thirty-five he is begin- 



LITTLE BITS OF LONDON. 249 

ning to go down hill. A man of thirty-five has passed, 
it is true, the half of the allotted span, but, judging him 
by years of possible production— beginning even at 
twenty— at fifty he has almost the half of his life before 
him and the best years. If spared to live to his 
father's long age, by this system of calculation, Dr. 
Nicoll has about two-thirds of his journey yet to 
travel. In the matter of years most middle-aged men, 
when asked to take a back seat, generally take affront. 
Dr. Nicoll has plainly no touchiness on that point, but 
some of his admirers have, and as one of them I am 
always glad and proud to say of him " while he is 
happily getting on well in life he is not yet getting well 
on in life," and happily also— for himself, for his fam- 
ily and for his friends. 



ROYAL KILDRUMMY. 

" Here Kings and Queens were domiciled 
And seen of high and low 
When Fortune on the Castle smiled 
In days of Long Ago." 

It is a bright morning on the 8th of May in the year 
1607. There is much stir and bustle in the Palace of the 
King of Great Britain. The grooms-in-waiting and the 
lords-in-waiting have one by one been summoned to 
face their august sire. His toilet is not complete and 
he has an important engagement on hand. ' ' Stockings, 
stockings!" is his pathetic appeal. "A pair of king- 
doms for a pair of hose !" But his cry was unavailing. 
The royal wardrobes have been ransacked in vain. In 
a couple of hours he must keep his appointment. The 
Stuarts, however, were always resourceful, and James 
VI. and I. had a trick up his sleeve. Sitting down at his 
writing table the Scottish Solomon sharpened his quill 
and dashed off the following letter to the dandy Earl 
of Mar : 

" Dear Jock : As I am gaing to gie an audience this morning to the 
French Ambassador, I deseir you to be sae gude as to sende me a pair of 
yeir best silken hose, with the goud clocks at them. 

" Your affectionate Cusine, 

" James R." 

There is no doubt but what the appeal was success- 
ful. A King 's request is really a command. The Earl 
of Mar addressed was John Erskine, the Lord of Kil- 
drummy Castle. 

This magnificent pile, long a ruin, stands in the parish 
of Kildrummy near the toll-road, not far from the 
Towie boundary and on a mound commanding a good 
view of the adjacent country. The Castle had at one 
time been surrounded by a moat which can yet be 

250 



ROYAL KILDRUMMY. 251 

traced. The whole buildings covered about an acre. 
Of seven great original towers, the remains of six may 
still be seen. The material used was free-stone quar- 
ried from the district. One of the prominent features 
of the Castle was "The Snow Tower," which is in a 
fair state of preservation, the next best portion of the 
ruins being the Chapel with its picturesque lancet win- 
dows. From the styles of the architecture employed 
Kildrummy Castle is believed to date as far back as the 
twelfth century. David, Earl of Huntingdon, brother 
of William the Lion, passed it on to the great Robert 
Bruce.* In 1307 it was captured and partially de- 
stroyed by the English; but recaptured and rebuilt by 
the Earl of Athole, and held out for Bruce in 1336.t 
By the marriage of Bruce 's sister it fell into the hands 
of the Earl of Mar. He quarreled with his King and 
David II. besieged and took Kildrummy from him, but 
eventually gave it back, and the Earl died there and 
was buried within its walls. David gave it a friendly 
call in 1365, which was the last visit of royalty until 
Queen Victoria's pilgrimage in 1866.* 

* Bruce and Bruce's queen and his brother Nigel are all closely asso- 
ciated with Kildrummy Castle and Sir William Wallace is also known 
to have visited it. Rev. Mr. Christie is of the opinion that the original 
castle was on a different site from the present ruins, and pointed out to 
me the probable foundations of the earlier buildings not far from the 
present Kildrummy Church-yard. The local place names lend consider- 
able color to his theories. 

-j- Duncan Duff, Thane of Fife, married Mary Monthermer, niece 
to Edward I., and allying himself with the English was made Governor 
of Perth. Robert the Bruce took both prisoners and immured them in 
Kildrummy Castle where Duff died in 1336. It was this same Duff's 
sister Isabel, who was " The Caged Lady of Buchan." She was true 
to Bruce, and exercised the Duff right of placing the crown on the 
Scottish sovereign's head. Eventually she fell into the hands of King 
Edward of England, and by him was imprisoned in Berwick Castle — 
confined for seven years in an iron cage. The coward who fled in 
terror from Scotchmen took his revenge in this ungallant manner on a 
brave Scotch woman. 

* On that occasion my father, in charge of his engineering corps, pro- 
vided the kettle for Her Majesty's al fresco tea. He had met her 



252 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

In 1403 Sir Malcolm Drummond, the husband of the 
Countess of Mar, was killed in Kildrummy Castle by 
Alexander Stewart,* a natural son of "The Wolf of 
Badenoch" and a "bad enoch" man he proved to be 
himself, afterwards gobbling up the Kildrummy estates 
and marrying Drummond 's widow. There was a spec- 
tacular wedding ceremony in front of the castle in 1404, 

incognito when surveying the Palace grounds at Osborne, and was 
pleasantly recognized by her. Tennyson was also one of his acquaint- 
ances in The Isle of Wight, and in fact, from his official position he 
frequently met all the celebrities of the period, and has quite a fund of 
good stories about them. 

* In 1431 Stewart was defeated by The Lord of the Isles at the 
Battle of Inverlochy, and after wandering among the hills for days was 
only saved from actual starvation by meeting a beggar woman who 
furnished him, at his request, with some barley-meal from her pock. 
He sat down by a spring, and using the heel of his shoe for a bowl he 
soon prepared for himself a bicker of brose, which he always declared 
was the sweetest morsel he ever tasted. 

Aince to please a royal loon 

"Brose and Butter" was the spring; 
" Brose and Butter " I'll be boun' 

Is a dish micht please a king. 
But to Scotland's noblest chiel 

Auld Kildrummy's Yirl o' Mar 
Water mixed wi' barley meal 

In his brogue was finer far. 

He had focht his fecht in vain, 

Missed his men and had to flee; 
Tired and hungry and in pain 

Cot nor castle could he see; 
When he met a beggar-wife 

Begg'd frae her a puckle meal, 
And the dainty o' his life 

Made he in his auld shoe-heel! 

Mony feasts he had been at 

Aifter this, as weel's afore; 
Mony tit-bits had he gat, 

Wi' his will o' stock and store. 
Hunger tho' is kitchy sweet 

And he said he never knew 
What it was to relish meat 

Till he suppit frae his shoe! 



ROYAL KILDRUMMY. 253 

during which the lady made free choice of Stewart, and 
handed over to him the keys and charters of all her pos- 
sessions. They died without heirs male, and Kil- 
drummy Castle passed into the hands of the son of 
James II., then was given to Robert Cochrane, a favor- 
ite of James III. In 1508 the Elphinstone family be- 
came owners, and held possession until Queen Mary 
decided in favor of the Erskines, who still retain the 
Mar title. The family lost the Kildrummy estates when 
the earl raised ''the standard on the Braes o' Mar" in 
1716, in spite of the banner having been blessed by the 
Eev. Win. Milne, the parish minister. A few years 
later Mr. Gordon, of Wardhouse, bought the property 
and he in turn sold it to the present enterprising pro- 
prietor, Colonel James Ogston, of Aberdeen.* 

Many interesting stories cluster around Kildrummy 
Castle, and if its walls could only speak they would not 
lack audiences. Its most famous siege culminated in 
its betrayal by a blacksmith, who agreed to fling a red 
hot plough-sock into a hay loft in the grounds, on con- 
dition that he would be paid as much gold, by way of 
gift, as he was fit to carry. He performed his part of 
the contract and the Castle was burned down. When 
he asked for his payment the English poured the red-hot 
molten metal down his throat, so little good his treach- 
ery did him— a Midas reward for a Judas act. 

In 1746 the Mar vault in Kildrummy (old) church 
aisle was opened, and the embalmed body of a lady dis- 
covered in a perfect state of preservation. She was 
supposed to be the whelp of Badenoch's mate, or the 
wife of Gratney, Earl of Mar. Kildrummy Castle is 
much frequented by picnickers,! and in recent years 

* The new House of Kildrummy stands across the Back Den facing 
the Old Castle. The little burn between them is now spanned by a fine 
bridge which looks like a duplicate of the old Brig o' Balgownie. 

| Over a quarter of a century ago I remember attending the Highland 
Games at Kildrummy Castle, and seeing the peerless Donald Dinnie, 
18 



254 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

has had some advertisement by the Gr. N. S. R. Co. as 
one of their great "sights." They may safely claim it 
to be so, as in size and in historical importance they 
have nothing on their whole line to compare with it. 

Kildrummy has even existing relics of prehistoric 
times, in the extraordinary number of "Eirde" (earth) 
houses found throughout the parish. They are also 
called Picts' houses, and really are subterranean vil- 
lages, supposed to be the dwellings of the aboriginal 
inhabitants. The nearest resemblances we have to them 
in this country are the homes of the Cliff-Dwellers in 
Colorado, Utah and Arizona, or of the Mound Dwellers 
in Ohio and Indiana. In Ireland the Beehive Houses 
seem to have been made by the same people and on the 
same plan as the Eirde Houses of Scotland, but are not 
underground. 

Kildrummy has a special interest to lovers of Scottish 
literature, as it was the native parish of the mother of 
Eobert Fergusson,* the poetic predecessor of Burns. 
She was a Forbes, and the Reids and the Carrs were 
related and locally associated with Templeton, Drum- 
nahive, and The Culsh. At Old Auchindoir Mr. John 
Reid allowed me the privilege of sitting in Robert Fer- 
gusson 's grandfather's chair, and gave me much out-of- 
the-way information relating to the poet's Aberdeen- 
Scotland's champion athlete, carry off the bulk of the first prL ss " open 
to all-comers." Dinnie, who is a native Aberdonian, has been in the 
Antipodes since then, and at the present time is running a tavern in 
Newcastle, England. No professional has ever touched his score of 
eleven thousand victorious contests. Among his trophies he shows first 
prizes for wrestling, hammer-throwing, tossing the caber, leaping, jump- 
ing, racing, dancing, shooting and quoiting. His lifting record at his 
best was two tons. I have several books of prose and verse by his 
father, who had more intellect than Donald, and by those who knew both 
was considered the stronger of the two. In his youth Donald waa 
apprenticed to my uncle George Law, of Aberdeen, but left stone-cutting 
for athletics. 

* His father came from Crathie, also in Aberdeenshire. 



KOYAL KILDEUMMY. 255 

shire connections. His pedigree is fully discussed in 
my old correspondent Grosart's "Life of Fergusson" 
in the "Famous Scots" series. 

At one time Clova was a separate parish and later 
on was quoted with Kildrummy as "Kildrummy and 
Clova." 

It is strange how many parishes hereabout go in 
pairs. We have Bhynie and Essie, Auchindoir and 
Kearn, Forbes and Tullynessle, Leochel and Cushnie 
and so on. Kildrummy now stands alone, and we only 
speak of the Clova estate. But the ruins of the old 
Church of Clova, "Cloveth" or "Cloueth, " may be 
seen within a mile to the south of Clova House. Clova 
Church was named ' ' St. Luke 's, ' ' and figures in records 
as far back as 1063, when King Malcolm granted it and 
its lands to the Church of St. Mary of Mortlach. In 
1157 Pope Adrian IV. confirmed Clova Monastery to 
the Bishops of Aberdeen. There was a ' ' Robert Lumis- 
daine" in Clova in 1549, probably an ancestor of the 
present proprietor, Mr. Hugh Gordon Lumsden, al- 
though Cushnie is said to be the native parish of the 
Lumsdens. Prince Charlie's secretary was of the 
stock. Not far from, the site of the old church Mr. 
Lumsden has erected a beautiful private chapel, which 
is open, however, to the public; and for such an anti- 
Catholic neighborhood is well patronized. The present 
priest, Father Fraser, is well liked by everybody. It 
is, perhaps, not generally known that he is a profound 
Gaelic student, and is now working on his magnum opus, 
a translation of Don Quixote from the original Spanish 
to the language of the Celt. Mrs. Lumsden of Clova 
House is also a fine Spanish scholar, and enjoys the 
most intimate relations with the Court of Spain, so that 
it needs no straining of truth to closely connect Kil- 
drummy with royalty once again, and to join the Clova 
vicinage with the Vatican, as in the olden days. 



STUYVESANT SQUAEE AND WALL STREET. 

The good old-fashioned Trinity 

Of " L " and " S " and " D," 
Is by the new Divinity 

Condensed to " $ " and " $ " ; 
While some, for true affinity, 

Have jew'd it down to " G " : 
In " G " — which is to say — in Gold 
Their Hope and Saviour they behold, 
And hence their Motto, Faith and Creed 

They long have striven to adjust, 
That all may mean, whate'er they read, 

" In G"— that is "In Gold— We Tetjst!" 

On Palm Sunday, 1903, 1 celebrated my thirty-eighth 
birthday by attending the morning service at St. 
George's Church, Stuyvesant Square, New York City. 
To make a frank confession two reasons chiefly led me 
there: (1) To hear the minister, Rev. Dr. Rainsford, 
and (2) to see J. Pierpont Morgan, who is a deacon or 
usher or vestryman, or coin collector in that church. 
Dr. Rainsford, with his "institutional" church, has long 
been in the public eye, and quite recently has gained 
much notoriety on account of a remarkable address he 
made at a Lenten meeting in St. Stephen's Church, Phil- 
adelphia, held under the auspices of the Brotherhood of 
St. Andrew. Whatever he said gave great offence to 
many, and among other results the ministers of the 
Philadelphia diocese, as an offset to Dr. Rainsford 's 
statements, hurriedly prepared, signed and circulated 
a reaffirmation of their creed; intending thus to repu- 
diate Dr. Rainsford 's heresies and to reassure the public 
that the Philadelphia Episcopal parsons were not like 
this New York Shepherd, who by some strange over- 
sight had strayed into their green pastures. It took 
me some time to find out what Dr. Rainsford had really 

256 



STUYVESANT SQUAEE AND WALL STREET. 257 

said, but at last I succeeded, and from one of the con- 
gregation I quote verbatim : 

"Dr. Rainsford belittled the sinfulness of sin. He 
denied the mediatorial work of Jesus, emphatically 
stated that the Bible is erroneous in the Old Testament, 
and that the New Testament writers made many mis- 
takes. The Virgin birth of Jesus was dismissed as if 
it were so much nonsense. Finally, he said, that as man 
came into this world without any choice on his own 
part, and as he had to act very much according to his 
inheritance and environment it was 'up to God' to save 
him. ' ' 

Of course that is "higher criticism," yet heterodoxy 
flat, and quite slangy as well. But may not Dr. Bains- 
ford be himself a victim of his environments? A min- 
ister who associates with a congregation like Dr. Rains- 
ford's is apt to imbibe strange views and startling 
phrases. His parish contains the two extremes of great 
wealth and great poverty, and neither are neglected. 
I was told that Dr. Rainsford took hold of St. George 's 
when it was so far run down that it had been seemingly 
abandoned by God and man— and woman. It is now 
one of the prominent churches of New York,— claims a 
membership of 7,000— can that be Stock Exchange 
figures?— and, anyhow, has about it every air of pros- 
perity and success. Perhaps it excels in its labors 
among the poorer classes— educational and recreational 
—and notably with its ' ' Fresh Air ' ' work. Every sum- 
mer it sends many thousand families for a week into the 
country or by the sea, and the fund which provides for 
this excellent philanthropy is the ordinary church col- 
lection on Easter Day. 

The interior of St. George's is little different from 
the average Episcopal Church. A hideously ugly, gilt 
sounding-board, over the minister's stand, stuck out in 
front of the altar like a sore thumb, and on both sides 



258 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

there was a large white-robed choir of male and female 
voices. No doubt the singing was fine, but I was not 
able to understand a single word of it. However, that 
is nothing uncommon in high-class high-paid choirs, 
and simple worshippers who expect to make out the 
hymn or psalm or anthem are extra simple indeed. Dr. 
Rainsford had a couple of assistants— after the manner 
of end-men— but he himself was the central star per- 
former. He is a big, athletic Englishman. In reading 
the Scriptures he did so from a small hand or pocket 
Bible and did not use the big pulpit Bible that for so 
long has seemed to be an inevitable necessity in public 
worship. His pronunciation was curious. He said 
"fill-ed" for instance, and not "fill'd," but "sinn'd" 
and not ' ' sinn-ed, ' ' and zigzagged with other words in 
like manner, without seeming rule or reason. His ser- 
mon was on ' • The Prodigal Son. ' ' He spoke in a con- 
versational tone for the most part, but at times was very 
dramatic. His matter was not entirely extemporaneous 
as to delivery, but his notes did not seem to be much in 
the way. With all his clearness of enunciation a word 
sometimes slipped, or could only be guessed at. This 
was notably the case in his definition of the Universe. 

"It was," he said, "a Universe of "! What?- 

"Whimf" — 'No; although it sounded like that. 
"Wind?"— That could not be, and yet the sound was 
exactly like "Wind." Later on the right word came 
by inference, and it was "Will,"— "a, Universe of 
Will." The whole talk turned on the exclamation of 
the Prodigal son "I will rise and go to my father." 
Among other notable things that forenoon Dr. Rains- 
ford said: 

"Nothing lasting or valuable can come suddenly or 
cheaply. * * * Nothing is so valuable as Human Will. 
We consider murder the greatest crime, but were it 
possible to rob human beings of will-power and make 



STUYVESANT SQUARE AND WALL STEEET. 259 

thein idiots it would be infinitely worse than murder. 
No crime conceivable like the crime that would rob a 
man of the power of will. * * * Breakers of Will to 
be blamed. A powerful man to be blamed for tramp- 
ling down his neighbors. Does the man say 'you must 
not give me power if I cannot use it!— That is a fool's 
argument. The cry of sin is ' give me my rights ! ' It 
was the voice of the Prodigal— 'I'll have my rights— 
I want to go.' * * * After satiety comes remorse. 
Present conditions say : 'Get out— get home.' Friends 
say: 'Go Home.' Belly says: 'Go home.' Then 
comes the mystic cry '1 ivill.' 'I have been feeding 
swine long enough. I will arise and go to my father.' 
Now here's Jesus talking— not me! * * * There was 
another prodigal son who had never gone away, but, 
alas, alas, alas! He had carried all in his heart. He 
had never known his father. That was surely to be lost 
indeed. Better any far country than to live at home 
and know not and love not. * * * Well it's true what 
I told you. If we confess our sins Jesus is ready to 
forgive us our sins. This is Jesus' own story. We 
must use our will. I will arise and go to my father." 

While the learned Doctor was holding forth, I could 
not repress a smile as he read the verse "And when he 
came to himself." It recalled the explanation of that 
phrase given by the worthy Wesleyan minister. 

"There," said the good old man, "is a fine instance 
of the wonderful depth of meaning there is in the Scrip- 
ture. We see how low this unfortunate prodigal man 
had fallen. 'And when he came to himself — what 
does it mean? Well, look at home. What do we do 
when our money is gone ; when we have no credit ; when 
our local banks will not cash a five-hundred-dollar note 
for us with the endorsement of a multi-millionaire; 
when all our 'friends' give us the cold shoulder? What 
do we turn to? The pawn shop, of course. Our Uncle 



260 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

Dudley yet is kind. So was it with the Prodigal Son. 
First, no doubt, he spouted his watch and chain. This 
would keep him living a month. Then his coat would 
go, and he might feast a week on that. Then his vest— 
two days more. Lastly, his shirt would follow— and 
that wouldn't sustain him long. Then, ah then, my 
brethren, 'He Came to Himself.' He couldn't pawn 
himself, so he said, 'I've been feeding hogs long enough, 
I will arise and go,' — and home he went to his father!" 
Now a few words as to the other man who divides 
with Dr. Eainsford the interest of strangers. J. Pier- 
pont Morgan was sixty-six years of age on April 17. 
According to a horoscope made as recently as 1892 he 
"was born under a lucky star." His great successes 
have been achieved since his sixtieth birthday, which 
should be some encouragement to many half-century 
failures. In personal appearance Mr. Morgan looks 
about fifty-five. He is a good big man physically, 
brisk in his movements, and brusque in his manner of 
speech. His face is of the Jewish business type with 
prominent nose and staring eyes; his hair gray and 
white, closely cropped, and showing rather thin at the 
crown. When he took up the church collection he was 
the first to deliver his plate, not waiting as the other 
deacons did to march to the altar in pairs. Any one 
could recognize him from the newspaper portraits so 
plentiful in the last ten years. His style of dress, his 
eye-glasses, his bristling moustache, his swelling front 
— everything was complete but the inevitable cigar 
which, of course, he had to forego in the church. Really 
he was a sight worth seeing, as he is the only man we 
have who deals on the billion-dollar scale. A business 
affair involving ten millions he considers "a small 
matter. ' ' When I saw him he was probably at the apex 
of his career, yet far behind the speculative success 
reached by the Scotchman Law, of "Mississippi 



STUYVESANT SQUARE AND WALL STREET. 261 

Bubble ' ' fame. Morgan had announced that he was to 
sail for Europe on the following Wednesday, but his 
programme was suddenly changed— by the sickness of 
one of his partners, his firm explained, but later on the 
public believed the adverse decision on the Northern 
Securities case had more to do with his remaining in 
Wall street. Since then I have seen it reported that 
many of Morgan's former followers, associates and 
parasites have deserted him, believing that the tide of 
fortune has at last turned against him.* But that 
is the way of the world, and who has not expe- 
rienced it on a big or little scale? " Fair-weather 
friends" are proverbial. When storms or adversities 



* I suppose it is rank financial heresy if not business blasphemy for 
a mere onlooker to make any comment on Morganizing methods, but 
I feel tempted nevertheless to say a few words in regard to his widely 
heralded Steel transaction. To my mind his Trust can only succeed 
by keeping steel prices at abnormally high figures. This is the whole 
thing in a nutshell. If the prices received in 1902 had been the same 
as the prices received in 1897-98 the Steel Trust would have had to 
face a loss of over $22,000,000, because the 1902 advance in price of 
steel products of the United States Steel Corporation over the 1897-98 
figures, according to the published reports, has been no less than 
$140,127,619. The Carnegie Steel Company and presumably other 
well managed steel companies made plenty of money in 1897-98 when 
prices were 33 per cent, less than the prices of 1902. But the huge 
capitalization of the United States Steel Corporation has a much bigger 
appetite than that of the individual companies it absorbed, and on the 
basis of its production steel consumers actually paid in all $232,000,000 
more for their steel than they would have paid for the same products 
at the 1897-98 prices. Can this continue? Such enormous profits on 
steel will certainly tempt other companies into the field if legislators 
cannot be persuaded to reduce the tariff on the products of foreign 
steel manufacturers, which is also not impossible; and it is thus only 
a question of time and perhaps a very short time, when Morgan's 
prize corporation will be declaring Irish dividends instead of drawing 
even a modest 6 per cent. Be not awed but be audacious! If you 
look for fame or gold learn that fear invites misfortune; luck abides 
but with the bold! ! How long will consumers of steel pay such enor- 
mous sums to maintain what Emperor William of Germany called 
" the audacity of Pierpont Morgan " ? He who lives langest will see 
maist ferlies. 



262 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

come such creatures are the first to flee— or keep away 
in case any little service might be needed. The com- 
pensation is that they are found out, and no one should 
regret the exposure, but on the contrary be glad to say : 
"Good riddance to bad rubbish." Happy is the man 
who makes his discoveries while yet young! Artist 
Whistler once wrote a book-dedication that had the con- 
centrated wisdom of volumes: "To the rare few who 
early in Life have rid Themselves of the Friendship 
of the Many." 

Not one but several of Morgan's big deals have re- 
sulted in piling up mountains of "undigested securi- 
ties," and as this is written (September, 1903) the sum 
that now clogs Wall street's stomach has swelled from 
six hundred and sixty-five millions in April last, to con- 
siderably over one thousand million dollars; while, on 
the other hand, speculative values have depreciated and 
dwindled and shrunk to such an alarming degree as to 
produce another "rich man's panic." 

The bears in the end made a raid on the fold 

And the bulls who believed that their winnings were gold 

Were changed into sheep to be properly fleeced ; 

Some lambs so be-splintered as ne 'er to be pieced ; 

And nothing but paper and water and wind 

Kept many from being effectively skinned. 

0, the Morgan who lived in the days of old 

As we read in the books was a Corsair bold, 

And the man now in finance the most to fear 

Is the Pilot who cruises— "to Morganeer!" 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH 

Dunedin! Fitting is it still 

That those who keep the Royal Hill 

That guards old Scotland's heart 
Should yet command the world's respect 
For Culture and for Intellect, 

For Science and for Art! 

"Edina! Scotia's darling seat" rejoices in many pet 
names, from the stately ' ' modern Athens ' ' to the kindly, 
couthie, colloquial "Auld Reekie." The best pens in 
the world have been employed to do it justice, but 
where a writer with the ability, the affection and the 
knowledge of Sir Walter Scott made a failure of it (ac- 
cording to John Ruskin) simpler scribes may well give 
up the attempt as hopeless.* 

Sir David Wilkie said one had to make a tour of the 
whole of Europe to find what was collected around 
Edinburgh's castled rock. The natural beauties of the 
place are certainly rare for such a large and such an 
ancient city. In the matter of scenery nothing can sur- 
pass hills for picturesqueness, and the royal Edwin 
who first staged this burgh must have had an eye for 
the properties to give his fort and village so fair a 
setting. Its proximity to the sea, "and all that is 
therein, ' ' insures Scotland 's capital with its lofty land- 
marks, and their decorated sides and crests, a double de- 

* We do not, however, agree with Ruskin by any means in this matter 
or in lots of others. Many of his criticisms are nothing more than 
peevish outbursts of bad temper, a straining after insignificant gnats 
where on other similar occasions he would gulp down camels and never 
thraw his mou'. Then again, he was often misled by a desire to show 
his own superiority; and, on the whole, while we are grateful that 
he left us some of the finest writing in the English language, we 
do not hesitate to protest against his frequent unfairness and unreason- 
able quibbling too often displayed. And what for no? "A penny cat 
can look at the King." 

263 



264 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

gree of splendor that culminates almost in the sublime, 
and with that adjective I am content to leave it, so far 
as relates to its looks. 

Volumes have been written on a single street of 
Edinburgh, and libraries could be filled with the history 
and literature of the town. I shall only take up a few 
items that I specially noted for various reasons. 

In the Old Calton Burying Ground is a monument 
to the Scotch- American soldiers who fell in the Civil 
War— an idea that owed its origin to Hon. Wallace 
Bruce when consul at Edinburgh. The memorial is 
especially notable as it is crowned with the first statue 
of Abraham Lincoln erected outside of America. It 
was to this burying ground that E. L. Stevenson said 
he went "to be unhappy," but a housemaid at one of 
the hotels opposite soon made the quick triumph over 
the dead. David Hume is buried in a big circular tomb 
at Lincoln's back, and the same ground contains the 
dust of Constable, Walter Scott's publisher, and Willie 
Nicoll, who was a chum of Burns and figures in "Willie 
brew'd a peck o ' maut. ' ' 

Edinburgh is full of Burns memories, and is proud 
to show every place associated with him or his friends 
in any way. I visited all his principal haunts, but was 
most interested perhaps in looking at the grave of 
Eobert Fergusson with the stone erected to his memory 
by Burns, as a tribute from a "rhymin' brither." Of 
course I had to see the houses where he stopped, the 
closes and pends, etc., that we know he frequented— 
such as Stevenlaw's close where Allan Masterton lived 
—the third blythe lad of "We're nae that fou' "—and 
the Masonic Lodge Burns attended in the Canongate. 
I also thought of him and Fergusson when I peeped in 
at Libberton's Wynd, where Johnnie Dowie's Tavern 
was, and when I passed the site of Allan Ramsay's 
house and saw the tablet to the Edinburgh poet's mem- 






STATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
by Geo. E. Bissell, Sculptor. 
Erected through subscription of 63 Americans of which J. Watts de Peyster was one. 
and unveiled 20th August, 1893 in Edinburgh. Scotland. 



Erected 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH. 265 

ory in Greyfriar's churchyard. I lingered long before 
the Burns portraits, statues and manuscripts, and it took 
no vivid imagination to see the Ayrshire Bard himself 
daundering around the streets and looking in at the 
booksellers' windows as he told us he did for some 
days after his first arrival in the city. 

The castle culminates in the citadel which is on the 
highest part of the rock. The big "Mons Meg" Can- 
non is one of the sights worth noting on The King's 
Bastion. This piece of ordnance was the work of a 
Galloway smith— " Brawny Kim" of Mollance or Mons, 
and was forged in 1476. Many tragic and droll stories 
are clustered around its capacious bore. St. Margaret's 
Chapel in the rear of Mons Meg is the oldest building 
in Edinburgh and the smallest church in Britain. It 
is of Norman architecture and was erected by the pious 
Queen of Malcolm Canmore. It is now used as an 
Episcopalian Baptistry for soldiers' children. Queen 
Mary's Room should not be overlooked by any visitor. 
The ceiling that saw the birth of James VI. and I. is 
still in place. The Old Parliament Hall that has wit- 
nessed many a rare banquet and stormy meeting is now 
a sort of museum. The Crown Room and Dungeons are 
among the great sights. Out on the Esplanade it will 
repay any one to see the kilted soldiers going through 
their drill, and an extra treat is guaranteed if they are 
on the march, preceded by their regimental band play- 
ing a lively air.* The Lawnmarket is full of memories 

* Every kind and style of music is mine — for all I love — from hurdy- 
gurdy to grand orchestra, and from a simple melody to an elaborate 
opera. It has been my good fortune to have feasted on the finest 
bands of the world ; I have listened to Paderewski on the piano, Liberati 
on the trumpet, Pryor on the trombone, Levy on the cornet, Patti at 
her best, and every other artist worth hearing in the last score of 
years; and whether ic was an organization like "The Kilties," Willie 
MacLennan or Bob Ireland on the pipes, Scott-Skinner on the violin, 
Madame Annie Grey with harp and voice, Durward Lely and W. Kinni- 
burgh with voice alone, or hundreds of other artists (including my own 



266 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

of such celebrities as Cromwell, Prince Charlie, David 
Hume, Boswell, Johnson, the Gladstones, Steele and 
Deacon Brodie. 

Sir Walter Scott's House is at 39 Castle street. Lock- 
hart describes it well. The great novelist was satisfied 
with a very modest literary den. If he loaned a book 
to a friend its place in Scott's library was filled with a 
wooden strip giving the particulars. He considered 
9,000 words (about four newspaper columns) a good 
day's work. The mere writing of this took eight solid 
hours, allowing no time for the changes of composition. 
In his declining years he employed secretaries, but 
they were not shorthand writers. Big as his output 
was, how much more he might have given us had he 
utilized the services of competent stenographers, and 
reserved his strength for dictation and the revising of 
typewritten copy! Edinburgh is above everything else 
Sir Walter Scott's town, and it is therefore fitting that 
it should contain in his monument the finest memorial 
ever erected to a literary man. Poor Buskin saw little 
in it but a Gothic steeple set on the ground: we are 
grateful our taste is not so nice, and that it seemed 
grander in reality than it had ever looked on paper. 
The Princes St. Gardens where Scott loved to stroll 
after his day's stint was finished are now much more 

wife, at home, singing and at the piano) in every department — even to 
the rendering of " Psalms and spiritual songs," the Scotch performers 
lead the lot — " the heather dings them a' " ! 

In the mere matter of drum-playing the Highland drummers make 
all others seem little better than rattlers of Indian tom-toms. To see 
and hear — say half a dozen pipers — in kilts and plaids and plumes — 
with colors bright and buckles glancing, marching together to a lively 
tune — " Cock o' the North " or " The Campbells are Coming " — ac- 
companied by an artistic, overhand, "Seaf orth-style " manipulator of 
the drum-sticks — with rhythmic sweep and fancy flourish — his mantle 
a Royal Bengal tiger's skin — is to hear and see the very personification 
of dignified, inspiring martial music ; the brand that sends the " thin 
red line " to Balaclavan triumphs, and scales an Alma or a Dargai 
Height with " Do or die ! " 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH. 267 

beautiful than they were in his day, and contain many 
fine statues to local and national celebrities. De Quin- 
cey's remains lie in St. Cuthbert's Churchyard. He 
lodged for many years in Lothian Eoad. Christopher 
North 's house at 29 Ann street also saw much of ' ' The 
Opium Eater ' ' where he used to sleep off the effects of 
his beloved drug lying on a rug before Wilson's fire. 
"General" Symington, of Binkley's, remembers De 
Quincey well, having as a boy carried his mail, and has 
some amusing tales to tell of the domestic and social life 
of the brilliant essayist. 

St. Giles' Cathedral is a noble building with a great 
history. Thanks to the generosity and patriotism of 
William Chambers the interior of this church was re- 
stored in 1883-88. We cannot think of it without think- 
ing of Jenny Geddes and her "cutty stool." When 
the dean of her time tried to introduce the new Epis- 
copal service (ordered by the King), and had got so 
far as to say he would read the * ' Collect ' ' for the day : 
—"Colic?" said she, "Deil colic the wyme o' ye!" 
and picking up her small camp-stool she let it fly at the 
scared prelate's head for "daurin' to say mass at her 
lug. ' ' I attended services at St. Giles 's, and had some- 
thing of the same feeling as the disgusted old dame 
when I saw a whipper-snapper of an assistant, with 
neither reverence, judgment, nor taste, rattle off a 
prayer from a book, all the time pretending he was 
making an extemporaneous appeal to the Throne of 
Grace. The bump of piety is not so highly developed 
in me as it is in some good men I know, but I felt the 
grand old Kirk was being sadly desecrated by such 
mummery and I say this now regardless of whether or 
not it is fashionable to be ritualistic. Anywhere, it 
seems to me, but there, with its memories of Knox, and 
the Covenanters ! I noticed a fine stained glass window 
in the Cathedral, the gift of a Law of Edinburgh, just 



268 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

as the finest window in Shakespeare 's church at Strat- 
ford was donated by a Law of Lancaster (England). 
There is a seat in St. Giles for the King's use that 
looks like a second pulpit. He is a Presbyterian when 
in Scotland and an Episcopalian when in England, in 
matters ecclesiastical believing it is advisable when 
in Rome to do as the Eomans do. The Scotch battle 
flags that hang from the ceiling of St. Giles and the 
brass tablets on the walls in memory of Scottish sol- 
diers killed on the field make one hope the day is not 
far distant when Christian nations will "hang their 
trumpets in the hall and study war no more. ' ' 

At Free St. George's I heard a sermon by the Eev. 
Hugh Black (author of "Friendship," etc)., but was 
less impressed by him than by the glowing coal-fire that 
graced the entrance to his church and seemed to give 
a warm welcome to all comers. 

Another day I found myself at the office of Chambers' 
Edinburgh Journal and had an interesting chat with the 
present head and representative of the noble family 
that has done so much for Scotland— Charles Edward 
Stuart Chambers. This was a particular pleasure to me 
for many reasons. With millions of my countrymen I 
had come to consider "Chambers" as more than a 
household word— a member of the family indeed— and 
often in evidence, whether in the form of cyclopedias, 
dictionaries, magazines or entertaining miscellanies in 
prose and verse. The Chambers publications are all 
good. In the difficult field of books of reference, with 
one or two exceptions their works are my preference. 
Their Journal still holds its own like a sack of golden 
grain amid bags of trifling magazine chaff that Time, 
the great winnower, will soon blow out of existence, as 
it has disposed of many similar contemporaries since 
"Cham'ers" was founded. The Chambers Burns is 
second to none of all the myriad editions of Scotland's 




Grave of Ann Watts, Countess of Gassilis, in the Chapel Royal. Born in the Province of 

New York, 20th Sep., 1744; Died in Edinburgh, Scotland, 29th Dec, 1794. 

The graves of the Stewart Kings are to the right as the observer looks toward the East 

or Chancel window. 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH. 269 

favorite poet— in facts, arrangement, and in spirit. 
Any one who must select a single edition, up to date, 
can make no mistake in deciding on Wallace's Cham- 
bers' Burns. With it, with their recent clear-print 
Handy Dictionary, their latest edition Edinburgh Cyclo- 
paedia, and their new Cyclopedia of English Literature 
a Scotsman has a university always on tap at his 
elbow, and if the volumes are used as they should be 
they will ultimately place the student on tap too. I 
was glad also, at Chambers ' office, to meet Mr. Cochrane 
of the editorial staff, and have a crack with him on 
congenial topics. 

Knowing that the Laws hailed from Mid-Lothian, 
via Fife, I kept my weather eye open for any signs of 
the name in Auld Reekie. I knew James Law was one 
of the important men of The Scotsman which comes 
nearer being a national institution than any other news- 
paper in Scotland. The new Scotsman Building, when 
entirely completed and equipped, will take a back seat 
with none exclusively devoted to journalistic enterprise, 
but on my visit everything was going on and out from 
the old headquarters. Mr. Law I found to be from 
Ayrshire, and I am glad of this opportunity to testify 
to his kindness in helping me on different local matters. 
The Laws of Coffee fame I was not fortunate in meet- 
ing. I noticed on old maps of Edinburgh a place 
marked "Jamielaw" that no doubt took its name from 
the original owner. But richest of all my experiences 
in this line I went into a saloon or small inn called 
' ' The Hole in the Wa '"to see if it differed from other 
places of the kind, and to find out why it was so styled, 
when to my astonishment and amusement the pro- 
prietor turned out to be a "James Law." 

Among the leading libraries I visited were The Uni- 
versity, the "Advocates" and The Edinburgh Free 
Library. The latter is under the management of Mr. 

19 



270 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Hew Morrison, who put himself considerably about to 
help me in my researches, and greatly added to my in- 
formation and entertainment. He is collecting a De- 
partment of Scotch Poetry that will be a worthy rival 
to the Mitchell Library "Corner" in Glasgow. The 
Edinburgh Free Library seemed finely equipped ex- 
cept that it wanted an elevator. It is no fun to climb 
up and down long flights of stairs, and while occa- 
sional spry visitors like myself make no complaint, I 
can fancy it is a heavy tax en the time and the energies 
of the librarian whose duties I noticed often called 
him above and below. Mr. Carnegie was the donor of 
this library building, or at least made it possible by a 
gift of $250,000 in 1890. The University Library when 
I called was in charge of Alexander Anderson the poet. 
It has some great Scottish treasures, but I was for once 
more interested in man than books, and the pleasure of 
looking through the shelves was postponed to another 
visit which has not yet been paid. The Advocates' 
Library contains about 330,000 volumes, 2,000 manu- 
scripts and a large collection of literary treasures. I 
had here some very old maps through my hands, the 
original drawings of many centuries ago, and I saw 
enough to believe that in many respects this is the 
greatest library in Scotland. 

Edinburgh has been described as "a West-Endy 
East- Windy" town, and I verified both appellations in 
my wanderings. I took a prowl through some parts of 
it after midnight and saw sights that probably life- 
long residents would not believe possible. Under the 
protection of the police, passed from one "Bobby" to 
another, I was in no danger, but I observed enough 
never to make me wish to try it alone, or even to repeat 
the experiment for idle curiosity. 

The tram-cars run in all directions, and by means 
of them I saw the most of the town. The Pentland 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH. 271 

Hills, the Braid Hill and the Golf Course recalled Allan 
Eamsay, for in his day the three attractions figured 
largely in Edinburgh— as now. Arthur's Seat and St. 
Anton's Well gave new meaning to the old ballad "0, 
had I wist before I kisst." The "Pier o' Leith" re- 
minded me of Burns' charming song, the first verse 
of which he ' ' conveyed ' ' from Lesley of Deveronside 's 
lilt in honor of Helen Christie, written 1636. 

' ' Ye '11 bring me her.e a pint o ' wine 
A server and a silver tassie 
That I may drink afore I gang 
A health to my ain bonnie lassie. ' ' 

Lesley 's other words are not worth quoting, and how 
beautifully the whole song was improved ! Surely this 
is the kind of stealing that is not only no sin, but highly 
to be commended? "The Heart of Midlothian" is 
marked on the pavement near St. Giles' Cathedral. 
"As I cam' doon the Canongate"— what history and 
romance and poetry is bound up with that name!— but 
I cannot linger now. How lucky I was in knowing 
Madame Annie Grey, the Scottish Prima Donna ! With 
her husband, Mr. Wade, and her charming mother the 
famous Cantatrice occupies a beautiful home on 
Princes street, and I found my way there more than 
once. One evening we had a rare concert when I was 
treated to many of my favorite songs and airs. It sent 
me back to the delightful entertainment Madame Grey 
gave us in Lancaster, Pa., some years ago, and the still 
finer programme she favored me with at the Stevens 
House on the following day. To hear her in "Ay 
Waukin, 0," with her mother at the piano, or in "Ae 
fond kiss and then we sever, ' ' with her own harp accom- 
paniment, is to get the best that Scotland can produce 
at this time. Is it any marvel that Queen Victoria 
specially honored the fair songstress by kindly compli- 
ment and substantial tokens of her admiration? 



272 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Did you ever hear of a ''Singing Minister"? This 
title justly and exclusively belongs to the Eev. James 
Eobertson of the Haymarket Church, Edinburgh. 
Being a Scotchman his specialty is Scotch song, but he 
does not confine himself to that. He won his sobriquet 
by the singing of sacred solos in the pulpit— by and 
by consenting to include a classical Scotch song at the 
social gatherings of his congregation, following this up 
with lectures on ' ' How to sing ' ' and kindred topics, in- 
cluding illustrative examples furnished by himself. 
He was a professional teacher of music before entering 
the ministry so that he has technical knowledge as well 
as natural gifts. He is now much in demand, as may 
be imagined, and having heard him several times I was 
greatly pleased with him. This spring he took a flying 
trip through the States and Canada, and was persuaded 
to give lectures to several audiences with much approba- 
tion. I shall never forget the fine effect of a visit I 
paid in his company to an old lady nursing a broken 
leg. She was bemoaning her luck a little when quietly, 
without any warning, Mr. Robertson commenced to sing 
"Count Your Blessings." It was so timely and so 
appropriate, and seemed so fresh and soothing com- 
pared to the ordinary hackneyed prayer that I wish it 
were more common. I was not surprised to learn after 
that he was often invited back to sing again. It gave 
me a new idea of "the ministry of song." 

Mr. Nelson, after we had a look through his Art Gal- 
leries, took me to his home and showed me more fine 
violins in one room than I had ever seen before. I am 
afraid to say how many were Cremonas, but as the 
owner is a member of Edinburgh's Millionaire String 
Quartette it may be believed that he can have the best 
obtainable where his tastes incline. He has one of the 
finest musical libraries to be seen anywhere. When 
I first met Mr. Nelson he was decorating a fine picture 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBTJKGH. 273 

with a gold border,— " gilding refined gold" it seemed 
to me ; and reading my thoughts, I fancy, he explained 
that a friend of his had admired a copy of the picture 
in his home. He concluded to present his friend with 
a duplicate, and make it better than his own picture to 
prevent any possibility of envy ! Was not that a clever 
way to enhance the pleasure of the donor as well as of 
the donee 1 ? 

The Museum of all others that most took my fancy 
was the fine building and collections originally owned 
by the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, but handed 
over by them to the Scottish nation. In ancient 
archaeological and historical memorials of Scotland it 
is without an equal, and is constantly being augmented 
and enriched in every department. Not a district but 
has sent its quota of prehistoric treasures, and what a 
variety may be seen! Implements of the rough stone 
and smooth stone age; flint arrow-heads; axes, ham- 
mers, querns, coffins and urns. Coming to later times, 
bronze implements and ornaments; trinkets of gold, 
silver, amber, jet and glass; pottery, altars and in- 
scribed tablets of Roman days ; arms and armor ; bells, 
crucifixes, reliquaries; musical instruments, watches, 
clocks, seals, stamps, charms, amulets, coins, medals, 
tobacco pipes, snuff-boxes are to be seen in bewilder- 
ing profusion. The gruesome relics of punishment and 
torture spoke volumes. Here were to be seen "The 
Maiden ' ' that chopped off the heads of Regent Morton, 
Sir John Gordon of Haddo, the Marquess of Argyll and 
The Earl of Argyll; "The Stocks" from Old Canon- 
gate Tolbooth; a brass collar inscribed "Alexr. Stewart, 
found guilty of death for theft at Perth the 5th of 
December, 1701, and gifted by the Justiciars as a per- 
petual servant to Sir John Areskin of Alva"; hand- 
cuffs, "gauds," girdles, fetterlocks, repentance stool, 
sackcloth gown, jougs, thumb-screws, gags, manacles, 



274 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

mantraps, flagella of iron wire, belts of penance, "life 
preservers" (ironical indeed) and spiked collars of 
varied designs. Among articles of dress and ornament 
were Queen Mary's gloves, ribbons that had belonged 
to Prince Charlie, brooches that were unquestionably 
worn by Viking beauties,* Celtic collars that Druid 
priests had owned, Eoman armlets of gold and silver 
that may have seen the Emperor Claudius, and bone 
combs that decorated the coarse hair of aboriginal 
Scottish belles. The Department of manuscripts, etc., 
showed good specimens of Scottish royalty, men of 
letters, and historical characters. A curious original 
poster was "The Declaration of a poore, wasted, mis- 
represented Remnant of the suffering, Anti-Popish, 
Anti-Prelatick, Anti-Erastian, Anti-Sectarian true 
Presbyterian Church of Christ in Scotland, ' ' etc. The 
letters of Paul Jones, Burns, Scott, Hogg, Hume, 
Wilkie and David Livingstone are worth examining 
carefully. In fact the whole repository should not be 
missed by any one who visits Edinburgh. It is the 
finest collection of Scottish odds and ends extant. 

A word must be given to Holyrood Palace which is in 
point of popular interest second only to the castle. The 
palace is on the site of King David's Abbey— the 
Chapel of the Holy Rood erected by him in gratitude 
for some fancied, miraculous deliverance. The first 
palace was erected in the time of James IV. It has 
been partially destroyed frequently, but through all its 
vicissitudes has some time or other been occupied by 
the reigning sovereign. Queen Victoria lodged in it 
more than once, and only the other day King Edward 
and his consort held court at ancient Holyrood. Every 

* Mr. Wm. Dey, of Lumsden, very kindly presented me with two 
silver Viking plaid pins, ornamented with cairngorms. They were not 
original brooches, but fine duplicates, and their value enhanced to me 
because made in Lumsden from true patterns, under the supervision 
of the late James Smith, watchmaker and jeweler. 




ANNE, oldest daughter of John Watts, Sr. and Anne de Lancey, Countess of Gassilis: 

from portrait in Colzean Gastle, Scotland. 
Born 20th September 1744 in New York. Died 29th December 1793, in Scotland. 
Buried in Holy Rood Abbey, Edinburgh, Scotland. 



ODDS AND ENDS OF EDINBURGH. 275 

visitor knows about the Kizzio tragedy, and whatever 
else is seen no one leaves without looking up Queen 
Mary's apartments, including the spot still marked by 
the heart's blood of the poor murdered Italian. 

In the Chapel Royal, near the graves of the Stuart 
Kings, is the tomb of Ann Watts, Countess of Cassilis. 
This is a most distinguished honor to an American 
lady. She was the daughter of Hon. John Watts I. of 
New York, and was born there on September 20, 1744. 
Mr. Watts lived at No. 3 Broadway, New York City, 
and next door to him resided Archibald Kennedy, who 
was then a captain in the British Navy, with a distin- 
guished record. He became eleventh Earl of Cassilis. 
The Kennedys still retain the title and the head of the 
family is now a Marquess (of Ailsa) with seats at 
Cassilis House and Culzean Castle. General John 
Watts de Peyster of New York City, is the oldest living 
American relative, and the head of the United States 
branch of the family. 



THE HOMES OF JOHN KNOX AND JOHN 

WESLEY. 

Two great Reformers in their day, 

Raised up, it seemed, by special grace; 

Yet only made of common clay, 
Like all the sons of Adam's race. 

John Knox's house projects so prominently into the 
Hight Street of Edinburgh that even a stranger could 
not miss it. Fairly emblematic is it of the good man 
himself, who loomed up big in Scotland's history and 
made a strong impression on his contemporaries in the 
three departments of church, state and education. But 
just as there are people who doubt Knox's usefulness 
so are there those to be found who deny that the great 
reformer ever lived in the picturesque looking structure 
that unvarying tradition has assigned as "Knox's 
House." The same doubts exist as to Shakespeare's 
birthplace. When I was in Scotland I came across a 
learned article that almost ridicules the Henley street 
claim out of court, and I must say makes a strong assault 
on the pretensions of its former owners. These shrines 
occupy a position in space similar to many of our 
heroes in time. They embody the feeling, the atmos- 
phere, and the surroundings of the period, and also, like 
some of the pleasant myths in our ballad literature, for 
instance, may be accepted as true in spirit if not in 
letter ; in structural harmony and even technical detail, 
if not the actualities themselves. 

The John Knox house is undoubtedly one of the old- 
est structures in Edinburgh, and goes back at least 
as far as the sixteenth century. In 1525 it was owned 
by a John Arres, whose daughter Mariot was married 
to James Mossman, a goldsmith. A tablet may be seen 

276 



HOMES OF KNOX AND WESLEY. 277 

on the west wall of the house with the letters I. M. and 
M. A. and the Mossman arms. To-day the Mossmans 
follow the same business in Edinburgh, and I believe 
there are other instances of families there that retain 
trades handed down for several centuries from father 
to son. 

The antique gabled architecture of Knox's house 
with its heraldic decorations and inscriptions fit in well 
with its traditionary history; and the rooms as now 
shown to the public bring us very near to the great re- 
former. The ground floor is occupied by Mr. Hay, a 
leading dealer in books and antiquities. The first floor 
is reached by an outside stair, and the ' ' audience cham- 
ber" should be first examined. The window of it has 
been called "The Preaching Window" on the supposi- 
tion that Knox used it occasionally as his pulpit. The 
room is well stocked with editions of Knox 's works, pic- 
tures of places associated with him, including fac- 
similes of letters and other documents in his hand- 
writing. There are also Knox sayings painted on the 
walls, such as : 

1 ' I am in the place where I am demanded of my con- 
science to speak the truth. Therefore the truth I speak, 
impugn it whoso list." In the passage leading to the 
back room are specimens of the coins in use in Scotland 
in Knox's time. The back room itself also contains 
more pictures, portraits and fac-similes, with Carlyle's 
tribute to Knox. The front room is well filled with 
pictures and books— the three rooms on this floor con- 
taining a fine collection of portraits of prominent people 
of all countries in any way connected with Knox. 

On the second floor we find Knox's bedroom, dining 
room and study. Some pictures are to be seen painted 
on the woodwork after the fashion of the time. The 
little study has a fireplace lined with old Dutch tiles, 
and a cupboard or book-case recess. In the Antiquarian 



278 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Museum Knox's pulpit is shown— that is, the one "said 
to have been used by him. ' ' His grave is marked by a 
small flat stone on the pavement to the south of St. 
Giles Church with the simple inscription ' ' I.K., 1572, ' ' 
in brass. 

Miss Stocks, the custodian of the John Knox house 
until her death early this year, showed me around the 
place in an intelligent style, and with a good deal of 
the "protesting" spirit. She did not hesitate to ex- 
press her opinion on the "characters" we discussed. 
While I am vexed at lots of things that seem to be true 
about Mary Queen of Scots I am not yet ready to desert 
her, or believe she was the very wicked woman that 
some historians have pictured. Miss Stocks viewed 
Queen Mary "with suspicion, ' ' and at least set me to re- 
reading the history of the times. 

John Knox was born near Haddington in 1505. His 
mother's name was Sinclair, and in times of peril he 
went under the name of "John Sinclair." He at- 
tended the University of Glasgow, and was a Roman 
Catholic Priest until, at the age of forty, when he be- 
came an adherent of the Reformed Faith, attaching him- 
self to George Wishart, who suffered martyrdom in 
1546. In 1547 Knox was made a prisoner by the French 
at the siege of St. Andrew's Castle, and for nineteen 
months was a galley slave, chained to the oar with other 
Scotch Protestants, in the Notre Dame galley ! He was 
then in his forty-third year, with all his great, telling 
work before him. Edward VI. of England interceded 
for him and secured his release. Knox preached at 
various places in England and Scotland, but on account 
of Catholic persecution had to flee to the continent in 
1554. There he became intimate with Beza and Cal- 
vin. In 1555 he was back in Scotland. He married 
Marjorie Bowes in 1556— thus taking his first wife when 
he was fifty-one years of age and at least a dozen years 



HOMES OF KNOX AND WESLEY. 279 

after he left the Church of Eome. He see-sawed be- 
tween Scotland and Geneva for the next three years 
and in Edinburgh was burned in effigy as a heretic, 
1557. In 1559 he was elected minister of Edinburgh 
and finally settled there in 1560. He helped the Scottish 
Parliament to abolish the jurisdiction of the Pope in 
Scotland ; had his famous interviews with Queen Mary, 
and was tried for high treason and acquitted in spite 
of the Queen's angry protest. His first wife died in 
1560 and he married, at the age of fifty-nine, a young 
lass of seventeen. In 1567 he preached at the opening 
of Parliament and had the satisfaction of hearing the 
Reformed Church declared to be the only church of the 
realm. He was stricken with apoplexy in 1570, 
preached for the last time in St. Giles at the induction 
of his successor (James Lawson, of Aberdeen), and died 
November 24, 1572, at the age of sixty-seven. 

John Knox, as much perhaps as any single man, made 
Scotland great. He was a republican as well as a free- 
thinker; or better perhaps say— a reformer in matters 
of state as well as in matters of religion ; and above all 
else he believed in Education. The divine right of kings 
gave him little concern, and his boldness in dealing with 
Queen Mary and her courtiers was as refreshing as it 
was beneficial to his country. His active, eventful 
career was well supplemented by a powerful pen. 
Among the curious things of his life we note that he 
enjoyed his glass of wine, that he called his wife his 
"left hand"— (the wife Calvin spoke of as "sweetest 
spouse") ; he complimented Queen Mary for her "pleas- 
ing face," and she presented him with a watch at his 
second marriage. He brought home his bride riding— 
"with a great court on a trim gelding with his bands 
of taffetie fastened with golden rings and precious 
stones"; his pulpit style was vigorous— "he dung the 
Bible into blauds ' ' ; and he was called by some of the 



280 HEBE AND THEBE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

Jesuitical brothers "a crafty little fox." John Knox's 
best epitaph was pronounced by the Earl of Morton— 
"Here he lies who never feared the face of man." 

John "Wesley 's house is on City Road, London, oppo- 
site Bunhill Burying Ground. It put me very much in 
mind of John Knox's house, although Wesley's house is 
a modern building in comparison. Wesley relics are 
everywhere— books, portraits, letters, medallions, etc. 
Wesley's desk is shown with a secret drawer that some- 
how suggested his tartar of a wife. Wesley's married 
career was a nightmare. He had trifled with the affec- 
tions of many good women and in the end was caught 
by a lady that paid him back with compound interest. 
She did not even hesitate to lay violent hands on him, 
and authentic accounts are in existence describing the 
venerable founder of the Methodist Church cowering 
on the floor with Mrs. Wesley ramping over him brand- 
ishing handfuls of the white hair she had plucked from 
her helpmate's head. Wesley must have felt he de- 
served it or otherwise he was as insane as she was, not 
to have had her confined in a madhouse. There was no 
evidence of John Knox Bordeaux wine in the Wesley 
House, but a colossal teapot that had belonged to the 
Wesleys proved their fondness for the cheering bever- 
age. It was a white china pot with blue decorations. 
On one side was marked: 

"Be present at our Table, Lord, 
Be here and everywhere ador'd; 
These creatures bless and grant that we 
May feast in Paradise with Thee. ' ' 

On the reverse : 

"We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food 
But more because of Jesu's blood: 
Let manna to our souls be given 
The bread of Life sent down from Heaven. ' ' 



HOMES OF KNOX AND WESLEY. 281 

Innumerable little books and "keepsakes" that Wes- 
ley had presented to different women were collected and 
displayed around, and if Mrs. Wesley had ever seen as 
many trophies at one time, instead of a few locks of 
hair I believe her spouse 's whole head would have been 
sacrificed. Wesley's study or praying-closet was a 
small chamber, with hardly room for a table. 

John Wesley was born two hundred years ago, and 
after wandering about in two hemispheres settled in 
London. His chapel— also worth visiting— is next door 
to his house and his grave is behind the chapel. He was 
a Church of England man, took up for a time with the 
Moravians, and after saying the Methodists should 
never leave the Church of England left it to become 
the leader of his own Wesleyan movement. He wrote 
lots of hymns, including some good ones, and his prose 
writings are a library in themselves. His "Journal" 
deserves to be better known than it is. Once he pub- 
lished a dictionary of only one hundred pages in the 
preface of which he says "Many are the mistakes in 
all others, whereas I can truly say I know of none in 
this." It is about the poorest of his literary efforts. 
His life is so full of inconsistencies and contradictions, 
with occasional lapses from good conduct, the most 
charitable view to take of him is that he was as mad as 
the bulk of our great geniuses. But don't ordinary 
people suffer from the same affliction I I am inclined to 
think with the poet : 

' ' We 're a ' some craekit, fore or aft ; 
Some temper 'd hard — some temper 'd saft; 
Some wrang in woof and some in waft; 

In some degree 
Somewhere, on some occasion, daft 

Baith big and wee ! ' ' 



GO AHEAD GLASGOW. 

It's Bailie Mcol Jarvie's toun 

And still his wraith, they say, is seen 

As big as life stravaigin roun' 

The classic haunts by Glasgow Green. 

Unless gifted with prophetic vision neither St. Mungo 
nor Kentigern ever dreamed of the great city of Glas- 
gow that has grown up on the site of their little vil- 
lage of ' ' Cleschu, ' ' established about 550 A. D., on the 
Molendinar Burn. Greater Glasgow now has a popula- 
tion of over a million, making it the second city of the 
Empire, and for push and hustle strikes a traveller as 
being far ahead even of London. No American can be 
long in Great Britain without deciding that Glasgow is 
the town that most of all resembles his own cities, and 
Americans who keep posted in the world's work, even 
if they have not crossed the sea, know that the best 
governed municipality anywhere is this same Glasgow. 
Here, then, are two ideals united that are scarce enough 
to be called rare— good individual progress and honest 
with able civic government. No wonder Glasgow 
flourishes and forges ahead with leaps and bounds ! We 
have the one valuable quality in the States, but the other 
we have not yet insisted on, so that our advance in the 
face of such a handicap as a refractory, vicious, 
"balky" running mate is most encouraging, as it shows 
what we really could do were we to have a harmonious 
team at our municipal chariots. 

The air of Glasgow must have a special tonic prop- 
erty, as for centuries the citizens have been particularly 
noted for their indomitable perseverance. When one 
commercial door closed they forced open another, scrup- 
ling not even, as in the case of the Clyde, to overturn the 

282 



GO AHEAD GLASGOW. 283 

designs of Providence, to gain their ends. The bring- 
ing of their city water from far-off Loch Katrine was 
another stupendous feat. Often a small circumstance 
will bring a big thing vividly before us, and I have sev- 
eral times thought of the Glasgow wooing of the ' ' Lady 
of the Lake" when I took a drink of Loch Katrine 
water in New York City, from the tank of a Glasgow 
steamer. 

The Clyde is certainly one of the great traffic high- 
ways of the world and its ships sail on every sea, able 
to hold their own with the best of any nation. Yards 
and factories fringe the banks of the river for miles, 
every establishment seeming to be on a gigantic scale. 
The big Atlantic steamers can go and come as far as 
Glasgow only when the tide says so, but impatient 
travellers can embark or disembark at Greenock, and 
do the balance of their journeying by train at any 
time. 

St. George's Square is a sort of civic Hall of Fame, 
statues being there erected to Scott, Burns, Watt, Sir 
John Moore, Lord Clyde, Thomas Campbell, Gladstone, 
Dr. Livingstone, Sir Robert Peel, Thomas Graham, 
Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort. In other places 
in Glasgow are monuments to 1M elson, Wellington, John 
Knox, Motherwell, and some more men of purely local 
fame. The Glasgow Cathedral has a figure of Arch- 
bishop Law. 

Glasgow is well provided with libraries— the Baillie, 
Stirling and Mitchell Libraries being named after their 
donors. Mr. Carnegie has also given handsome dona- 
tions for the expansion and the extension of the free 
library system. The Mitchell Library deserves special 
mention. It was founded by a tobacconist, and is par- 
ticularly rich in purely Scottish literature, its Scottish 
"Poet's Corner" being without an equal anywhere for 
completeness and minute classification. Mr. Barrett, 



284 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

the head librarian, has endeared himself to all students 
by his knowledge, his enthusiasm and his kindness. 
Mr. Ingram, his right-hand man, is from Banffshire, 
and is an authority on all matters Caledonian, having 
to his credit many valuable books of reference on his 
favorite studies. Of Mr. Ewing I have written else- 
where. All three gentlemen put themselves about con- 
siderably to show me their special treasures, and I 
wished I could have been around the Mitchell Library a 
year instead of only having the opportunity to pay it a 
few visits. There was not a single book I called for 
that I failed to see, although in more than one instance 
the library had the only known copy.* Several were 
unique enough and of such value as to be kept in the 
fireproof safe. The reading and writing rooms of this 
library were admirably adapted for their purposes, and 
I was pleased to observe that nearly every seat was filled 
whenever I was there. I happened to be in Mr. Bar- 
rett's room one day when Convener Fyfe called, and 
could see that as a Councillor he performed his library 
duties in no perfunctory manner, but with a due sense 
of their importance to the city and to the citizens. 

The municipal buildings occupy the whole east side 
of George's Square, and are crowned by a tower that 
must be about 240 feet in height. The staircases are 
very fine, and the balustrades and panels of veined 



* One of the rarest books of Doric verse, strangely enough, is the 
work of a Cabrach writer well known to Khynie and district at one 
time, viz., Mr. Charles Mitchell, formerly of Bridgend and now of Duff- 
town. I had asked for it in vain when in the North. Several parties 
promised to get " copies " for me, but not one materialized. One man 
even said Charlie himself would write out the whole of it for me if 
he knew I cared for it! — but I said I expected to see it in Glasgow — 
and I did in the Mitchell collection. It is poor stuff in one way, yet 
valuable in another. I may over-estimate " localism " in books, and 
give undue value to " personalities," but I am so constituted that both 
qualities ( or " accidents " if you will ) always appeal to me strongly, 
and C. M. furnishes many choice examples of both. 



GO AHEAD GLASGOW. 285 

marble have a rich effect. The present Lord Provost 
is Sir John Ure Primrose, Baronet. I had the honor 
of an informal lunch with him when he was Provost- 
elect, and saw him again when he was in office. His 
high title has come to him within the past few months, 
and gave immense satisfaction to Glasgow, where he is 
beloved by all classes, as well as honored with the chief 
office in the gift of the city. Sir John is now "the 
pride and primrose of his line" and in a fair way to 
found another lordly family, by and by to rival the 
Laird of Dalmeny's. 

Once in Chicago I met the Glasgow Exhibition Com- 
missioners on tour in the interests of their big show. In 
the party, that I remember, were Messrs. Crawford, 
Mason and Simons— all city fathers, and Mr. J. Murray 
Smith, who controls one of the powerful editorial pens 
of Glasgow. It was like a breeze from off the heather 
to me, and Scotland was well represented and strongly 
to the front in the Auditorium- Annex that particular 
Sunday. We all fore-gathered again at their club in 
St. Mungo's, and in such good hands I felt very much 
at home. It was amusing to me to be put in the position 
of defending American institutions, but for the sake of 
my adopted country I believe I was able to let the eagle 
scream a little without compelling the lion to roar too 
loudly. In the company of the leading men of the most 
wide-awake city in the British Isles— Glasgow baillies, 
nae less— soon to entertain their Sovereign and receive 
his substantial compliments— ma conscience ! it was a 
prood day for me.* 



* It is a hard matter for me to go anywhere without sooner or later 
meeting a Glasgow City Father. The other day on Sir Thomas Lipton's 
yacht, " The Erin," while I knew that the genial host was a Glasgow 
Scot — and neither an " English Knight " nor a " native Irishman," as 
has been so often claimed — I did not expect to meet any of his fellow- 
citizens on the waters of New York Bay, off Sandy Hook. But behold! 

20 



286 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Then out to " Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie,0 !"— to see 
the university and its museums, and exhibits, and meet 
its principal and librarians. Rev. Dr. Story gave me 
valuable information about the university and city coat 
of arms. I spent considerable time in the Hunterian 
Museum poking about among the coins, and Roman re- 
mains. Also remember seeing the steam-engine model 
that belonged to James Watt, and many other curious 
and important items. 

Glasgow is finely provided with transit facilities from 
surface electric cars to underground trains. In the 
Subway, or Underground Road you get your ticket at a 
wicket, put yourself in the slot, and like a ball are shot, 
until out you pop once more on top, on another part of 
the city's chart, and in such a jiffey that unless a 
"difTy"* you must confess, while your breath you catch, 
a rare Express is the ' ' Sub Despatch. ' ' 

The railway stations and the streets and stores seem 
crowded always. The people are on the go all the time, 
and only on a Saturday night is any disorder to be seen. 
Then it is bad enough to make up for six sober days, the 
most disappointing feature being considerable intoxica- 
tion among the young. It is a most difficult problem to 
cope with, and the only way I could see to lessen the evil 
would be for the city to shut up tight all the saloons 
and public houses at noon on Saturday; but I suppose 
such an idea is out of the question. Many who drink to 
excess would not bother getting stimulants if legal 
barriers were put in the way. I believe in this as in 
many other things lots of people would be "good" or 
"bad" according to their associates and opportunities. 

the first man I encountered was Bailie Walter Wilson of the " Collos- 
seum," and right worthily did he grace his place and position, and 
uphold the credit of the premier city of Scotland. 

* This word I heard expounded at Skibo Castle by Mr. Carnegie, who 
said it was in common use about Pittsburg, and was applied to any 
one more than ordinarily stupid. 



GO AHEAD GLASGOW. 287 

This does not argue much backbone, but it shows the 
known power of environment, and the general human 
tendency to follow the crowd.* 

Glasgow leads all cities I know in the matter of popu- 
lar amusements. The city has a permanent entertain- 
ment bureau in charge of a competent man who does 
nothing but book talent and arrange programmes for 
first-class concerts at nominal prices. The best artists 
of all kinds have appeared in the St. Andrew's Halls, 
and the audiences are always big. 

Other Scotch towns I know have this commendable 
feature— Aberdeen notably so. Edinburgh leans more 
to Philosophical lectures. The English "Pops" have 
been famous for decades, and, thanks to the generosity 
of Sir John Leng, Dundee has developed much interest 
in Scottish lyrics, but Glasgow seems to be in a class by 
itself and especially with its Saturday concerts. It is 
a civic feature well worth copying in America. 

Glasgow also excels in the quantity and quality of her 
tea-rooms. Everybody there drinks tea and it is surely 
an excellent substitute for the cup that cheers and 
inebriates. For a few pennies one can have a nice light 
lunch, daintily served, with a wide range of biscuits, 
crumpets, cakes, scones, etc., golden butter and delicious, 
fresh preserves, with tea unsurpassed by the finest 
brews that ever inspired Cowper or Dr. Johnson. 
Why, I wonder, is tea so neglected by Americans ! The 

* Apropos of drinking, and the most common Scottish toast, my little 
daughter Evelyn (not quite three) just brought me upstairs "a glass 
of lemonade." After thanking her, in fun I said: "Here's to you! " 
and she instantly retorted : " But ye're takin' 't to yersel' Papa ! " 
How fair a remark, and as good a criticism as the saying of the traveler 
in Scotland who observed that " Glenlivet " should really be named 
" Glen-tak'-it," if a brand with the true meaning were desired ! Of 
course the Scotch " Here's to you " really means " Here is health and 
happiness and all success to you as I drink." The improved version is: 
" Here's till us ! Wha's like us ? " and the response should always be— 
"Very few." 



288 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

best to be had at the best hotels is little better than slop, 
—"dish- water "—and this seems so strange for a nation 
that can beat the French on coffee, and the world on 
cocoa and chocolate.* 

Just as London has its noted " Bridge,' ' so Glasgow 
has its "Broomielaw" famed in song and story, and 
perhaps representing the high-water mark of traffic on 
the banks of the Clyde. Here people from all nations 
meet and pass, bringing the uttermost ends of the earth 
often together. America seems separated only by a 
short ferry-ride, and many Glasgowegians think no 
more of going to the Continent than of taking a trip 
"doon the watter." 

Among particularly interesting features to me I must 
say a word about the Glasgow bookshops, new and old. 
They compare favorably with the best anywhere. The 
old book stalls are many, and will well repay a leisure 
hour. If prices seem stiff it is because the goods are 
uncommon and of high quality. Among publishers 
Bryce & Co. deserve special mention for their unique 
library of the smallest books in the world, and their 
magnificent plates of Highlanders in costume, historic- 
ally exact and correctly colored. 

The roll of Clydeside literateurs is by no means a 
small one— living as well as gone before. I had the 

* I know a Lancaster gentleman, otherwise without an equal as a 
judge and provider of " the good things of life," who insists on boiling 
tea before serving it ! But apart from the " masking " of it, I do not 
believe the best brands of tea touch America, unless in quantities so 
limited as not to reach the masses. As to cocoa, we have in our city 
of Lancaster the magnificent Hershey plant — soon to be removed — 
after the English style of Fry's and Epp's — to its own model town 
near the Old Donegal Church in Dauphin County. Our big caramel 
factory, also originated by the same genius, sends its products all over 
the world. In my own little village of Lumsden, Scotland, it was 
very interesting to me to find out last summer that the " sweeties " 
my bairns occasionally bought were manufactured on the banks of the 
Conestoga, thus bringing together again native products and native 
consumers, after a thousand leagues' journeying across the sea. 



GO AHEAD GLASGOW. 289 

pleasure of meeting many able writers in my short stay, 
and to show that the extemporaneous muse still haunted 
the banks of Clutha I was not allowed to leave the city 
without a poetical greeting. I was also favored with a 
membership by the Glasgow Ballad Club, an organiza- 
tion devoted to the study, production and publication 
of lyric poetry, and I value the honor as highly as if I 
had been complimented with a burgess ticket and given 
the freedom of the city. 

"Let Glasgow Flotjbish!" 



A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW.* 

Old King Coal, the jolly old soul, 

How once lie made the day go 
My Langyardsides and Muttonhole, 

And the braes o' Lesmahagow! 
But his cannel noo burns low and pale, 

And green as Tursilago 
Are the bonny fields o' Douglasdale 

Aroun' by Lesmahagow! 

A good friend of mine in Lancaster has been plagu- 
ing me so long about seeing a little Scotch village, 
named Lesmahagow, that to-day I made up my mind 
to pay the place a visit. It was not the best season 
of the year to make a trip into the country, but I was 
glad on this particular morning to get away from the 
Glasgow fog. At eleven o 'clock in the forenoon it was 
still dark, all the city lamps were lighted, and the shops 
fairly ablaze in a vain attempt to frighten away the 
all-enveloping mist. Street cars, wagons and pedes- 
trians moved cautiously, and the trains lost ground 
everywhere on account of their slackened speed. Oc- 
casionally the sun could be seen tumbling among the 
clouds like a great big orange. Glasgow seemed to be 
on a sphere by itself, cut off from the rest of the world. 

After my train got fairly away from the city line, 
however, the dark pall lifted, and by the time Lesma- 
hagowf was reached it was both clear and pleasant, 
although very cold. On the way out to this wonderful 
village I passed through Blantyre, noted for its old 
Priory and forever famous as the birthplace of David 

* [This was written from Glasgow, December 8, 1902, and addressed to 
Editor James D. Landis of The New Era. For the sake of variety I 
have reprinted it pretty much as it originally appeared.] 

t Smollet in his " Humphrey Clinker," has drawn a Scotch character 
under the name of " Captain Lismahagow " that is worthy of Cervantes. 

290 



A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW. 291 

Livingstone, Christian missionary and empire builder ; 
quite close to Bothwell Bridge, one of the important 
battle-fields of Scotland, with " Wallace's Beef-Bar- 
rel," and Old and New Douglas Castles in the neigh- 
borhood; through Hamilton, the home of one of the 
best Scottish provincial newspapers,* and also boasting 
of its Palace, the principal residence of the Duke of 
Hamilton and Brandon, with a gorgeous mausoleum 
on the grounds that alone cost $650,000, while not far 
off is Cadzow Castle, of ballad fame, and in the sur- 
rounding woods may be seen a herd of Scotland's 
aboriginal breed of wild cattle ; by Tillietudlem Castle, 
well known to readers of Walter Scott; and near to 
Kerse, where some of the choicest Burns manuscripts 
in Scotland are preserved, and where, too, many of the 
most unique ones were destroyed. 

Miner Folk. 
The railway carriage also was not without incident. 
The district is profusely dotted with coal mines, and 
the miners and their families were coming and going 
from station to station. One group particularly in- 
terested me— a miner, his wife with a baby in her arms, 
and a boy five years of age. It was not a smoking 
carriage, but the youngster led the way puffing at a 
cigarette almost as long as his face. I asked how old 
he was, and the mother and father, after some wrang- 
ling, decided that l ' by this time next month all but two 
days he would be five." Then I said, "Is it custom- 
ary for children of his age to smoke?" "Oh, ay, if 
they can get the stumps. " "Ye see, ' ' said the mother, 
"they begin by gettin' the pickups i' the street. Wee 
Johnny has f and that in the gutter. " " No, I didna, ' ' 
said the boy, triumphantly producing a package almost 
intact, ' ' I bocht them. ' ' The father put in a word then 
and ordered the boy to stop, which he reluctantly did, 

* " The Hamilton Advertiser." 



292 HEEE AND THEBB IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

carefully saving the unused part of his cigarette. 
After a bit, he asked his mother for a "hair-preen," 
and then slipping over beside his father, abstracted a 
clay pipe from his pocket, and commenced to clean it 
out with the hair-pin preparatory to refilling it with 
cigarettes. But he was caught in time, and before I 
could see the next move they had reached their station 
and passed out into the street. In discussing the mat- 
ter with others I was told that the mining boys thought 
it "bairnly" to eat "sweeties," and substituted cigar- 
ettes and pipes for candy at a very early age. But 
this was not at Lesmahagow, only on the way to it. 

A Bit of Good Fortune. 

The first and only bump I got on reaching the end 
of my ticket was to find that my destination was a mile 
and a-half from the station. However, a 'bus was in 
waiting, and for a small charge I was soon whirled to 
the Royal Hotel, in Abbey Green. Sitting next to me 
in the conveyance was a most intelligent gentleman, 
who took special pains in answering all the questions 
I put in regard to the place, its people, and its history. 
He turned out to be Mr. Francis Brown, a kinsman of 
my Lancaster friend, and on learning that I was from 
Lancaster, Pa., U. S. A., and had only a few hours to 
give to Lesmahagow, he, most kindly, took me in 
charge, and did not leave me until he said good-bye at 
the train. It was a special case of excellent luck, as 
in all the village there was no better man to show a 
stranger around, except, perhaps, the noted John H. 
Tudhope, local antiquarian, book-lover and curio-col- 
lector, now, however, over eighty, and confined to his 
room. Mr. Brown told me his programme for the 
day called for his going home by a later train, and if 
some unforeseen influence had not brought him from 
Glasgow when it did I should have missed much of 



A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW. 293 

interest on my brief visit, a clear case, for once, of 
something coming to those who did not wait. 

Mr. Brown is himself something of "a character." 
He is in the boot and shoe business, but well able to 
retire from trade any day he pleases. He says he is 
not known to any one as "Mr." Brown, but simply 
"Francie," and told me a good story in proof of this. 
Prior to a summer vacation he ordered a special cap 
made for himself at a Glasgow shop, and left his ad- 
dress and "tuppence" to pay for posting the bonnet. 
Weeks passed and no parcel was received. So one day 
"Francie" was in town he called at the tailor's and 
asked why they had failed to send his cap. "Oh," 
they said, "you only gave us the address 'Francis 
Brown, Lesmahagow, ' and we were afraid to risk it, 
as the direction was too vague." "Let me tell you," 
thundered Mr. Brown, " if ye had jist pit on ' Francie, 
Lesmahagow,' it would hae gotten me a' richt, but I'll 
tak' it wi' me, and ye can gie me the tippence I left 
wi' ye for the postage!" "Remember I'm something 
o' a character oot there!" 

On Consecrated Ground. 
Lesmahagow is situated in a hollow, and, with only 
a population of 1,700, has no less than thirteen roads 
leading into it. Until recent years the finest gas coal 
in Scotland came from this locality, and to this day all 
cannel coal is rated according to the Lesmahagow 
standard. In summer it must be a pretty place, with 
its nearby braes and woods and green fields, and the 
sparkling Nethanburn wimpling through the centre of 
the vale.* The monks of old never selected poor sites 
for their settlements, and Lesmahagow was no excep- 

* Lockhart has told us in his " Life of Scott," how pleased the great 
Sir Walter was with the scenery around Lesmahagow, and mentions 
particularly a drive they took there together during the last illness 
of the poet. 



294 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

tion to the rule. The village of Abbey Green, where 
my Lancaster friend was born, is entirely located on 
consecrated ground. All beyond it was in "the 
world," and a place was pointed out on the edge of 
the village still known as "The World's End." This 
in itself sounded quite Lancastrian, as some of us at 
home divide the sheep from the goats very plainly in 
advance of the final Day of Judgment. The old church 
at Abbey Green was founded by King David L, A. D. 
1140, and was one of three places in Scotland known 
as ' ' Houses of Refuge. ' ' When a fugitive reached its 
sanctuary no harm could overtake him, as no power 
could dislodge him. In later times the parish became 
famous for the number of adherents it gave to the 
Covenanting cause. The diligent and scholarly John 
B. Dalzell* has compiled a list of no less than two hun- 
dred Covenanters who came from this district. Many 
of the martyrs rest in the parish graveyard, which also 
has a goodly share of quaint and curious headstones 
and epitaphs. A big mausoleum is shown that con- 
tains three bodies, and after the last was deposited, in 
accordance with the will of the builder, the door was 
locked, and the key flung inside the vault "to make 
sure that the inmates would rest in peace until the 
judgment day!" One small monument shows in bas- 
relief a fair representation of Adam and Eve in the 
Garden of Eden, with the devil getting in his fine work 
near an apple tree. A blacksmith's grave is shown, 
with the well-known verse: 

"My sledge and hammer lie reclined, 
My bellows, too, have lost their wind," etc. 



* Mr. D. has prepared a whole library of books and records relating 
to his family name, and embracing every Dalzell of note locally or 
nationally or universally. Such a complete collection as his "Dalzel- 
liana " is not eclipsed by any other name-historian anywhere. To 
test its practical value I looked up the references to Congressman 
Dalzell of Pittsburg and found enough matter about him to fill out a 
good-sized biography — and all brought up to date. 



A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW. 295 

A little headstone reads: 

"Shall We All Die? 
We Shall Die All. 
All Die Shall We. 
Die All We Shall." 

Peruse it up or down or any way across, the results 
are the same. It marks the grave of one Thomas 
Barr. 

One of Dalzell's Stokies. 

That reminds me of one of Dalzell's Lesmahagow 
stories. A half-witted but clever fellow named Barr, 
who lived here, was a little too fond of the bottle. As 
he came staggering down the street one day he saw 
the Parish Minister coming towards him and timing 
his steps to meet Barr in front of a crowd. As he 
passed, the parson wishing to administer a rebuke, 
shook his head and said, loud enough for the crowd to 
hear: "Ay Ay, Barr, drunk, as usual." Quick as a 
flash Barr blurted out, "I'm the same mysel', sir!" 
And as he passed the boys he said in an audible whis- 
per, "I'm thinkin' the minister got more than he was 
lookin' for that time!" 

Scotch Humob. 

Of the same type is the anecdote about the Lesma- 
hagow barber and his minister of still another denom- 
ination. The ' ' skin scraper ' ' was ' ' gey drouthie ' ' and 
one morning in shaving the minister no little blood was 
spilled on account of the nervousness of the tonsorial 
artist. As the reverend gentleman surveyed the dam- 
age in the mirror he said, "Ah, Sandy, the drink's a 
terrible thing." "Ay, minister," said the unabashed 
Saunders, "it's inclined to mak' the skin unco ten- 
der!" 



296 HERB AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Another tit-bit I had was about the Free Kirk Min- 
ister. He could not get along with his female servants, 
and at last his help had dwindled down to a half -daft 
lass whose quarrels with him were quite frequent. 
One morning the minister felt it was time to assert him- 
self, and he rebuked Janet for her want of reverence 
in talking as she did to "a servant of the Lord. " ' ' A 
bonny servant, indeed," she said; "if the Lord kent 
ye as weel as I kent ye, he wadna think muckle o ' ye ! " 

And for dry, pawky humor, this would be hard to 
beat: The Laird had been sick, and when the doctor 
called one morning he said to Tammas, the faithful 
servant: "The minister's temperature will not be so 
high to-day, Thomas !" "Ah, weel," said Tammas, 
"I'm nae sae sure about that. . . . He dee'd last 
nicht!" 

Literary Treasures. 

In my walks around the village I saw that the old 
parish school was now used as a carpenter's shop, and 
the free church school subdivided into dwelling houses. 
There is a splendid public park, and a bowling green, 
and a curling pond for the use of the villagers. Sev- 
eral crack curlers reside here and were offered the 
chance to go to Canada as picked men from Scotland 
to defend her laurels in the national winter game. The 
boys and girls have no end of fine skating on the dam- 
back, or coasting on a "stob" or "a curl" "doon the 
braes. ' ' One of the best treats I had was a brief visit 
I paid to old John Tudhope, aforementioned. The 
veteran is surrounded by treasures that any museum 
would be proud to own. Among his books are beauti- 
ful copies of Laud's liturgy (the 1637 Book of Com- 
mon Prayer attempted to be read in St. Giles' Cathe- 
dral, Edinburgh, but forever silenced by Jenny Ged- 
des, when she made her stool fly past the prelate's head 
for "dauring to say mass at her lug") ; the Psalms of 



A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW. 297 

1636, translated by King James VI. and I. ;* and sev- 
eral MS. volumes of sermons and lectures of the period 
of 1680 to 1720. He also has swords of the Covenant- 
ers and swords used at Culloden; some with remark- 
ably artistic basket hilts. These are considered so 
fine that they have been photographed and described 
in the best books on Scottish art. In his old days 
John has taken to collecting book-plates, and has sev- 
eral hundred rare examples, drawn from many coun- 
tries. He thought he could show us at least one book 
I had never seen when he produced the "Annals of 
Lesmahagow," but, thanks to my Lancaster friend, I 
was quite familiar with it, greatly to old Tudhope's 

surprise, f, 

A Lancastrian 's Birthplace. 

One of the last visits I paid was to the house where 
our Lancaster Lesmahagowegian was born. The pres- 
ent tenant told me it belonged to the ' ' Laird of Pease- 
hill," and very kindly showed me the room where he 
first saw the light. His present address in America 
is East Orange street, and Centre Square, in your own 
city. The buildings are of substantial stone, and, with 
many more in the district, are enduring monuments to 
his father, who was by trade a master builder and con- 
tractor, and of no little importance in the community. 
Lesmahagow is only sixteen miles distant from Muir- 
kirk and other important districts of the Burns coun- 
try. So far as I know, it has produced no poet,! but 

* Doubtless Sir Wm. Alexander had as must to do with them as the 
Royal Rhetorician. While King James lived his personal versions had 
to be given the preference, but after his death King Charles gave 
Alexander freer scope and in the final revision it is seen that great 
changes were made on what originally appeared as the King's. 

t Since this was written, Mr. Tudhope has gone to his long home. 

| Before leaving Glasgow I was fortunate enough to pick up a little 
volume of Rural Rhymes by W. Stewart of Larkhall (formerly Laver- 
ockha), full of delicious Doric and many local allusions. It was a 
weel wared " tippence." 



298 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

it has to its credit a scholar who captured more honors, 
degrees, diplomas and licenses from Glasgow Univer- 
sity than any other student in any university in all 
Scotland, before or after his time. This was the Eev. 
Dr. James Dalzell, a successful African missionary, 
whose untimely death last year will long be sincerely 
mourned. He was a typical Scotch scholar, and fitted 
himself for his career while managing his shop in the 
village. His father was the inventor of the first or 
second bicycle,* which was also born in this village. 

I had the pleasure of seeing the old bone-shaker, which 
was suggested by the spinning-wheel, and has finally 

II evolved" to the wonderful "safety" of to-day. 

The Strenuous Life Not Known. 
The Lesmahagow people take things easily— there is 
plenty of time. A four-and-a-half-mile railroad has 
been in course of construction for over four years, and 
there is much yet to do on it. There is no hurry. No 
one frets about piling up a colossal fortune, and dying 
with nothing but money, which must be left behind. 
They rather believe in plain living and high thinking. 
Simplicity is their motto, and much of the peaceful 
spirit of the old monks of Abbey Green still pervades 
the valley. But whenever there is anything worth 
fighting for the people of Lesmahagow yield to none. 
They will sacrifice even life for their principles, and 
have done so over and over again in no stinted quan- 
tity and without looking for either credit or applause. 
It is from such a race, grounded in good Northern 
stock, that my Lancaster friend has come. He has the 
Covenanting blood in his veins, and his family tree has 
more than one prolific branch famous in the annals of 
Church and of State. Need I say that I refer to Mr. 

* Macmillan of Dumfries is the other claimant, so in any event the 
honor belongs to Scotland. 



A LOOK AT LESMAHAGOW. 299 

James Shand, of the New York Store? His name had 
only to be mentioned in Lesmahagow to find all doors 
open and everywhere a warm welcome. And it would 
have pleased him more than the praise for himself to 
have heard the respectful, the admiring and the affec- 
tionate tributes paid to his forbears, who sleep amongst 
their kith and kin in this peaceful and beautiful spot 
that he may ever be proud to call his birthplace. 



"A TEIP IN A TUB" ACEOSS THE 
ATLANTIC. 

O, why can I not grace my prosy lines 

With one small Bath-Tub Poem from the pen 
Of what's-his-name ? — the little singing wren 

Who used to treat us to such monkey shines? 

Methinks he has abandoned all his mines, 
Or, haply, slipp'd the Assenceum's ken? — 
But no, he surely must be now and then 

Inspired to scribble on his old designs! 

0, shades of Francis! Daddy Dilke's Delight! 
O, Isaac Watts, and Mother Carey too! ! 
What have I done to get so sore a snub? 
Search where I may it still eludes my sight: — 
A Sonnet-Motto for my storied Tub, — 
An Ode that only Dory D. could do! 

Believing with the proverb that every tub should 
stand on its own bottom, we wish at the beginning of 
this article to make a candid statement. Our tub was 
not the kind of a tub that Diogenes is said to have lived 
in, nor was it the useful household article so much in 
evidence on the weekly washing day. Oh, no; it was 
"the good ship" "A," one of the crack vessels of the 
"Blank" Line of steamers, as advertised by its owners, 
' ' carrying the Government mails, ' ' and yet, during our 
voyage, at least, no other name was given to her in our 
hearing than the "Tub," which was in one word an 
appellation and a description that fitted her as a glove 
fits the hand. 

As to the midwinter trip itself, unless you are a good 
sailor or floater don't try it, and thank me in advance 
for giving you this sound advice. Only a matter of 
necessity should make a man attempt the voyage, and 
women and children would be far better quartered for 
as many days in a hen-coop or in a stable at home. 

300 



301 

No doubt there are differences in vessels, but I speak 
freely of the bad performances of "The Tub," as I 
crossed the ocean on her last July, and everything then 
was as lovely and as pleasant as could possibly be. The 
sea was as smooth as a mill-pond, and there was not a 
single case of sickness on board. Moreover, we made 
the journey from New York to Glasgow in a little over 
ten days. 

What a contrast has been the trip just completed, last- 
ing no less than sixteen tedious, trying days from Glas- 
gow to New York ! 

Wrong from the Beginning. 

Everything went wrong from the beginning. We 
started out in the tail-end of a storm that left the sea 
heaving and tumbling— not exactly mountains high and 
valleys deep, but in too lively a manner for our comfort. 
With few exceptions, all the passengers were sick the 
first night, and even the apathetic stewards admitted "it 
was very dirty weather. ' ' We were soon driven to our 
cabins, and were kept there, to exist as best we could 
until the sea subsided. It was just eight full days and 
nights before we saw the deck again. 

At first there was little to do but to lie in our bunks 
and give way to our feelings, wondering every moment 
when the ship would take her final plunge to "Davy 
Jones ' locker, ' ' no more to trouble any one on board. It 
became quite monotonous watching the clothes on the 
wall swinging to and fro like so many gigantic pendu- 
lums at every change of the ship's motion. The only 
variety given us in our stateroom was to see our small 
baggage pitch from its moorings, and do a waltz— or 
was it a Scottish schottische?— up and down the cabin 
floor. For the first few nights it was impossible to 
sleep, the novelty and the terror of our situation being 
too much for even tired nature to overcome. We prac- 
21 



302 HEBE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

ticed all the positions possible for ease or peace, and 
had to admit ourselves defeated. The beds were about 
as comfortable as sleeping on the bare back of a horse, 
and Mazeppa had no more fearful ride than ours 
' ' rocked in the cradle of the deep. ' ' Was it any wonder 
that nightmares came also to add to our horror when we 
were able to snatch a few moments of slumber? 

Voices of the Night. 
The multiplicity of sounds that constantly greeted us 
was led off by the continual grinding that seemed to be 
in the bowels of the boat. One man, who knew it all, 
said it was "the bloody loose iron with which the 
damned old tub was ballasted." Another said it was 
the shifting of the cargo, which was mostly coal, and 
George F. Baer and J. Pierpont Morgan were straight- 
way remembered in our prayers. On investigation, 
however, the noise proved to be made by the rasping of 
the anchor chain at every roll of the vessel. Then came 
the never-ceasing tinkle of water-bottles, glasses, knives, 
spoons and other small ware about the dining-room. 
Crying babies added variety to the moans and groans 
of the older people. Over and above all, filling every 
nook and crevice, was the never-ending roar of the 
ocean, sour and dour, surly and gurly, now bumping 
against us head-on, at another time whisking its tail over 
us with a lighter flourish, and again, and most fre- 
quently, simply breaking in tons over the deck, rushing 
and swishing in every direction, grinding at the doors, 
battering at the port-holes, and sometimes taking a leap 
down the ventilators and flooding the saloons. A young 
man, red-headed and hopeful, tried to change the luck 
of things on the third day by thumping on the piano, 
but, after three or four selections, and a somersault over 
the stool, he left the instrument in disgust, and went off 
on a drunk that lasted to the end of the week, during 



"a trip in a tub/ 7 303 

which time he was "dead to the world" of clamor and 
tumult enacted on every side of him. Occasionally we 
could also hear the clang of the ship's bells, and, to 
add to our irritation, the metallic voice of a sailor, sing- 
ing out as if in mockery, ' ' All 's well ! ' ' We felt if we 
had the strength we could seek him out and threep the 
needless lie down his brazen throat. 

It is wonderful how loyally the crew will stand by 
their ship and the sea. When the stewards can hardly 
navigate, even with the aid of the handrails and tables, 
they will cheerfully laugh, and in response to your anx- 
ious queries declare that "if it's no worse than this we 
won't complain." I saw a stewardess, with some cups 
and plates, trying to steady herself against our cabin 
door, and I ventured: "Pretty bad, isn't it?" She 
smiled sweetly, and said : ' ' This is all right, ' ' and the 
next minute an extra swell sent the crockery out of her 
hands with a smash on the floor. I suppose if her arm 
instead of a plate had been broken she would have still 
asserted the niceness of the voyage. But it is no doubt 
the best policy, as if the "help" talked pessimistically 
the passengers might easily become panic-stricken. 

Getting Sea Legs On. 

After getting over the worst sickness a few of us 
ventured out to the dining-room, where the most of our 
time was spent in holding on to the tables and trying 
to snatch a passing bite during meal hours. In Scot- 
land the people are great tea-drinkers, and one of the 
pleasantest national institutions is "a fly cup" indulged 
in generally early in the afternoon. On board-ship all 
our beverages were taken "on the fly," and were as 
often missed as caught. The dining tables were 
hemmed in by shelves on the sides and a deep ridge in 
the middle, but in spite of all this care the eatables would 



304 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

stampede over the fences and start an exploration tour 
through the room. It mattered little after all, as nobody 
had any appetite for anything, and taste was at such a 
low ebb that salt might have easily been palmed off for 
sugar, and flour substituted for both. Seamen unable 
to use the decks were continually passing by our doors, 
clad in glittering oil-skin coats and hats, with greasy 
boots and hands, and a general perfume of tar and oil 
that did not add any to the steadiness of our stomachs. 
The table linen could not be kept clean and the stewards 
and waiters (like ourselves) soon began to look dirty 
and untidy. There was no possible chance to shave for 
a whole week, the mere handling of a razor being equiva- 
lent to deliberate suicide. 

At its best, a ship is an unclean animal. A few 
patches of it here and there may be made presentable 
at times, but the great bulk of it is a filthy mess, with 
more kinds of dirt and more varieties of smell and stink 
than can be found anywhere else in the world in equal 
space. If any one should doubt this, make a complete 
exploration of an ocean emigrant steamer before pro- 
nouncing a final verdict. 

No wonder we all lost patience and temper and ambi- 
tion. And then every day at noon, when the log was 
posted, to find we had only been progressing at the rate 
of four miles an hour, seemed to add the last straw. 
But the climax was reached by the announcement that 
the anchors were being lashed to the decks, all sails and 
canvas screens taken down and barrels of oil held in 
readiness to pour on the troubled waters. Boreas and 
Neptune had now done their worst, short of annihilation 
altogether. We seemed to be doomed to experience 
every degree of despair and disgust before finally kick- 
ing the bucket and letting the rope go with it to the 
bottom of the well. 



"a trip in a tub/' 305 

Unappreciated Acrobatics. 

A little novelty was added one evening by hearing 
that two sailors had been washed overboard, but it 
turned out that they were only swept along the deck and 
got off with nothing more serious than some bruises and 
a broken leg. When we saw them carried to the ' ' Glory 
Hole" by their comrades we felt prepared for any 
tragedy that might come. 

Another evening a new and hazardous trick was 
added to the gymnastics of the saloon. Some barrels 
of flour were being hoisted from a store beneath the 
dining room. Being left unwatched for a moment they 
broke loose and started gyrating and galloping across 
the floor, tossed hither and thither by the motion of the 
tub. A fellow had to jump lively to dodge such formid- 
able missiles, for they were truly the heavy artillery of 
our naval engagement, but fortunately the guns were 
spiked before doing serious damage. 

The Ship Surgeon. 
Our surgeon was a very delicate-looking chap, and 
utterly incapable of spreading much attention over so 
many patients as had fallen to his care. My son, Duff, 
had about as hard a time as any with the mal-de-mer, 
but he succeeded in finding out that our ship's doctor 
had been for the past few years resident physician to 
the Court at Balmoral, and had often prescribed for 
Queen Victoria, and his present Majesty, King Edward 
VII. Now, the man of medicine* was on a sea voyage 
for the benefit of his own health, and by this strange 
turn of affairs we had the care and the skill of one of 
the royal surgeons, which was hardly to be expected 
as likely to happen on "The Tub." He succeeded in 
pulling us all out of our bunks and placing our feet 

* Only a few weeks ago with much sorrow I read that via North River, 
New York he had made his final trip to the Undiscovered Land. 



306 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

upon the floor, a result which could not have been sur- 
passed by Sir Frederick Treves, or the still more 
eminent Lord Lister. 

On Deck Again. 

When we finally got up on deck, it was some consola- 
tion, if not recompense, to find that the storm had really 
been a serious one. Several sails and life-buoys had 
been washed into the sea, railings and footboards 
swept away, and stout iron rods bent like so many gas 
pipes. All the life-boats had also been moved from 
their fixtures by the fury of the wind and water, and the 
waves had been raised so high as to drive the spray 
down the smoke-stack, dampening the ship's fires 
during the most furious time of the tempest. 

By and by we picked up enough courage to organize 
and hold a couple of concerts, which passed two even- 
ings very pleasantly, the talent being as versatile as it 
was plentiful. Between cards, games, reading and con- 
versation, promenading the cold and slippery deck, with 
an occasional extra snooze in our bunks, life on board 
became more and more bearable. There was a good 
library attached to our saloon, and every one had some 
personal contribution to make to the current literature 
of the day. We had gone the full limit in every variety 
of sourness and bitterness, and when the sweet and 
pleasant at last arrived we found the change all the 
more appreciable. We even reconsidered our harsh 
verdicts on ' ' The Tub, ' ' and decided that after all it was 
the weather that was really to blame. The wind stirred 
up the sea, and they both combined to vent their spite on 
"The Tub," which in turn passed on its troubles to us. 
But "all's well that ends well," and in spite of what 
has been written we all felt grateful that we were spared 
to reach dry land. The finest modern vessel could not 
accomplish more than make the shore, although we 



"a trip in a tub/' 307 

believe it can be done, and even in midwinter, witb 
much less discomfort and with much more despatch. 

The Lesson Taught. 

But such an experience as ours is, at least, a fine les- 
son in self-control. Whatever might happen to us, we 
were, as passengers, helpless, and entirely at the mercy 
of the captain and his crew. No amount of fretting 
could alter the situation in the slightest degree, or miti- 
gate our lot by the smallest fraction. We could not 
help but think that it is often so in the voyage of life. 
Many conditions and results are entirely beyond our 
control, yet daily cause us countless moments of wear- 
ing anxiety. It is surely the wiser plan not to worry 
over what we cannot help, and what we can help, let 
us work to accomplish or to overcome, finally trusting 
that the great Captain will at last guide us into the 
happy haven where we all desire to be. 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 

Young and old and rich and poor, 
Sage and fool and sweet an' soor, 
Ugly, bonnie, high and low: — 
We hate to go — but hae to go! 

In this chapter is collected a Miscellany about vari- 
ous places I have known or visited at different times, 
including some of the thoughts and reflections sug- 
gested in recording my notes. Epitaphs have always 
had a fascination for me, and in spite of the surround- 
ing gloom I believe nearly everybody has at some time 
lingered long enough even among strange graves to add 
to their information or amusement. We may not agree 
with the sweeping declaration of the Irish grocer who 
had his headstone inscribed : 

"Life is not worth a fig 
And I have good raisins for saying so"; 

neither may we believe with the Englishman whose 
couplet runs: 

' ' I think the land most free from ditches 
Is where the livers have no itches;" 

but we can more or less enter into the spirit of the 
Scot who wrote: 

"Ye mieht dee waur than to gie heed 
Sometimes to records o ' the deid. ' ' 

Historically, few mortuary places in the old country 
can surpass in interest St. Paul's Cathedral, Westmin- 
ster Abbey, and The Tower of London. St. Paul's 
originally dates as far back as 607 A. D., and the farm 
of Tillingham in Essex, endowed at the consecration of 
the first cathedral, still remains in the possession of the 

308 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 309 

Dean and Chapter. We often smile when we read of 
Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine-year leases, but here we 
have a contract that has weathered a much longer 
period. 

The architect, Sir Christopher Wren, has the oft- 
misquoted epitaph which is here correctly transcribed : 

"Si monumentum requiris, circumspice " 

(If you would see his monument, look around you). 

The great Duke of Wellington rests in the crypt, in- 
cased in no less than five coffins. Not far from him 
sleeps Lord Nelson, who occupies a coffin Cardinal Wol- 
sey had designed for himself. 

On the tomb of Sir Henry Lawrence of Indian mu- 
tiny fame may be read : 

"Never Surrender, I charge you. 
Let every man die at his post. 
Voice of the dead whom we loved 
Of Lawrence, the best of the brave. ' ' 

Sir John Moore is remembered by a quotation from 
Wolfe's glorious poem: 

1 ' Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame, fresh and gory, 
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone 
But we left him alone in his glory." 

In the "New London Gleaner" I came across two 
stanzas added to Wolfe's Dirge that may be new to 
most of my readers: 

"And so he shall sleep tho' the foe should raise 
In zeal for the fame they covet 
A tomb or trophy to speak the praise 
Of him who has soared above it. 
"By Englishmen's steps when the turf is trod 
On the breast of their hero pressing 
Let them offer a prayer to England's God 
For him that was England's blessing." 



310 HEEE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEBES. 

Fairly good the lines are, but a perfervid Scot in 
case of any misunderstanding had added a P. S.— 

"And never forget when a' has been said 

That wi' truth can be said o' the fechtin' chielie 
Sir John was a Scotchman born and bred 
For a fact, indeed, was a Glasgow 'Keelie.' " 

Sir Charles Napier's memorial recalls his famous 
despatch when he had conquered Scinde against the 
advice of his political adviser:— "Peccavi," he wired, 
which was his way of saying "I have sinned" and also 
conveying the news of his victory. 

General Gordon's cenotaph by Tennyson carried me 
back to my native Donside, as he was a Gordon of 
Dalpersie (formerly Terpersie) and they were a branch 
of the Gordons of Lesmoir and New Noth. 

In "Painters' Corner" and near it I saw the names 
of Reynolds, Lawrence, Leighton, Millais, Cruikshank, 
Landseer, Opie and Benjamin West, the last-named 
justifying what I had written in my "Lancaster, Old 
and New": 

"From Center Square the Quaker Artist West 

Commenced his struggle up Fame's rugged steep 
To reach the Laurel that was Britain's best 
And with her greatest at the last to sleep." 

"Facts are chiels that winna ding," and it is liter- 
ally true that this great painter made his real start in 
Lancaster, Pa., ending his career as President of the 
British Royal Academy. 

"Westminster Abbey" is a misnomer. The vener- 
able pile we know is really only the "church" of the 
Abbey or monastery, which disappeared in the reign 
of Henry VIII. However, it would be affectation now 
to deny the name of abbey to the building which covers, 
as Francis Beaumont wrote : 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 311 

"An acre sown indeed 
"With the richest royallest seed 
That the earth did e'er drink in 
Since the first man died for sin." 

Turn up what Jeremy Taylor, Milton, Addison, 
Burke, Wordsworth and Sir Walter Scott have said 
about it and you will get some idea of its grandeur 
and its glory. Its chapels are crammed with the dust 
of kings and queens, and all kinds of dignitaries of high 
degree. 

When I was in Inverness there was pointed out to 
me, among other interesting epitaphs, one on a towns- 
man which contained the clause : 

"Slept on the 5th May, 1874, my beloved wife who made 
our home so happy. We truly loved each other, my good, kind, 
wise, prudent and affectionate Annie, whose hands were 
always open to the poor and needy. Thy Saviour loved thee. 
I shall yet rejoice with my Annie." 

This was brought to my mind as I stood before the 
monument of Anne, the Queen of James VI. and I., her 
epitaph showing the following: 

"May she still be seen among us in her offspring! May 
we see her still happily living in her James! Forgive, 
illustrious Prince, the bold truth that James wants Anne but 
Anne feels not any want of James. 0, thou King of Kings, 
comfort our afflicted Sovereign"! 

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, and 
grief operates on kings and commoners pretty much 
alike. 

King James himself is buried in the tomb of Henry 
VII., and now at his grave I remember I had seen the 
bed where he was born in Edinburgh Castle. He fig- 
ures often in this book. Before leaving him I will 
quote the epitaph on his private secretary and literary 
collaborator, Sir Wm. Alexander, Earl of Stirling: 



312 HEEE AND THERE IIST TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"Here laves a farmer and a miliar 
A poet and a psalm book spillar 
A purchassour by hook and crook, 
A forger of the service book, 
A Coppersmith who did much evil, 
A friend to Bishops and the deevil, 
A vain, ambitious, nattering thing 
Late Secretary for a King. 
Some tragedies in verse he penn'd 
At last he made a tragicke end. ' ' 

Nevertheless, this same Earl once owned all Nova 
Scotia, and at another time most of New England and 
New York. At his suggestion, to boom the New found 
land in America many baronets were made by King 
James,— a title being flung in as a sort of chromo with 
every plot of land purchased. Furthermore, Stirling 
was poet enough for William Shakespeare to pilfer 
from, as may be seen by comparing a fine flight in the 
"Tempest" with some stanzas from the Scotchman's 
"Darius" published several years before. This same 
passage is the one selected from Shakespeare's works 
to adorn his monument in Westminster Abbey ; and as 
I read it, and glanced above,— to see the bust of Burns, 
— it was forcibly impressed upon me that the gentle 
William was a chiel who could take notes too. But we 
forgive him, since he had the good sense to "convey" 
only what was worth while. And it is by no means 
the only instance where he was kind enough to compli- 
ment the poets "of the North Countrie" by helping 
himself from their stores. 

Whatever else is omitted in London the tourist should 
not fail to spend some time in Westminster Abbey and 
particularly in Henry VII. 's chapel, which has justly 
evoked this compliment: "It is the admiration of the 
Universe; such inimitable perfection seems to be in 
every part of the whole composure which looks so far 



VOICES FKOM THE TOMBS. 313 

exceeding human excellence, that it appears knit to- 
gether by the fingers of angels, pursuant to the direc- 
tion of Omnipotence." 

Aveline, Countess of Lancaster's tomb is in the 
chapel of John the Baptist. She was a great beauty 
and the richest heiress in England. The date is 1273. 
This is another form of the name Evelyn, which some 
writers contend should be confined to the male sex, other 
feminine variations being Evelina, Eveline, Avelina 
and Evaleen. 

Among brief Epitaphs here are "Love-Serve" (Earl 
Shaftesbury's) and "0, rare Ben Jonson!" Charles 
Wesley's monument has three excellent sentiments 
from his works, two of which I quote : 

"I look upon all the world as my parish." 
' ' God buries His workman but carries on His work. ' ' 

The first line suggests Thomas Paine 's fine saying: 

"The world is my country, 
To do good is my religion." 

Handel's monument has a curious representation of 
the great musician listening to an angel playing on a 
harp in the clouds, evidently following the notes of 
"The Messiah" which is shown open at the air: 

"I know that my Redeemer liveth." 

There is a high rhymed panegyric paid to Michael 
Drayton whose name is twice spelled "Draiton." 

In the Chapter House I noticed a stone coffin, sup- 
posed to be of Roman origin. It reminded me of the 
fine specimen to be seen in Rhynie Kirkyard. Whether 
the original occupant of this strong chest came from 
the banks of the Tiber or from nearer home, it now can 
be said of him in the tender lines of Robert Harvey 
Smith (with a slight variation) : 



314 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

' ' Grim Noth upon his graif looks doon, 
And wimplin' waters sweetly croon 
His requiem as he slumbers soun' 
Beside the banks o' Bogie." 

The Tower of London buildings cover about twelve 
acres situated in a "Liberty" of about twice that area. 
William the Conqueror selected the site and since his 
day many additions and changes have been made. To 
countless numbers it has been fortress, palace and 
prison. What might not Tower Hill tell us if it had 
the power to speak ! How many executions has it wit- 
nessed from the days of King Richard II. to the Jacob- 
ite beheadings of 1745 and 1746 ! They began with a 
Simon— Burley in 1388, and ended with Simon Fraser, 
Lord Lovat. The visitor can stand on the spot where 
Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey were executed. 
The Beauchamp Tower is covered with names and de- 
signs cut out by the unhappy prisoners who have been 
detained in it. The regalia of Great Britain are kept 
in the Wakefield Tower, and after seeing such a surfeit 
of crowns, sceptres, vessels, insignia and jewels any 
other ordinary display seems trivial. The Tower Ar- 
mory has every variety of weapons and armor from 
the earliest to the present time. On The Parade are 
cannon and mortars of all ages. Among the prominent 
prisoners of the tower, not already named, were David 
Bruce, King of Scotland, Queen Elizabeth (for a fort- 
night during Wyatt's rebellion), Guy Fawkes, Henry 
VI., The "bloody" Judge Jeffreys, Archbishop Laud, 
General Monk, Sir Thomas More, Sir Walter Raleigh, 
the Earl of Strafford, James I. of Scotland (the "Poet- 
King") and Sir Thomas Wyatt. Yes, they were all 
entombed here, and many of them were destined for 
final execution. 

Edinburgh Castle is a second Tower of London, and 
seems as much associated with imprisonments, violent 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 315 

deaths, executions and tragedies. It also has its ar- 
mory, battery and crown room, the latter containing 
the Scottish regalia, which include the crown of Robert 
the Bruce, the sword of state of James IV. and the 
sceptre of James V. In Cromwell's time the regalia 
were hidden below the floor of the Kirk of Kinefr* in 
Kincardineshire, and entirely forgotten for one hun- 
dred and ten years! Owing to Sir Walter Scott's ex- 
ertions the regalia were restored to Edinburgh Castle, 
where by the Treaty of Union, these ''Honors of Scot- 
land" must ever remain. The Argyll Tower is asso- 
ciated with the two Argylls, father and son, who 
were imprisoned in it prior to their trial and ex- 
exution. In Old Parliament Hall the Earl of Douglas 
and his brother were banqueting with Chancellor 
Crichton when a black bull's head was placed on 
the table. That was a Scottish symbol that some one 
must soon die. The two brave Douglases instantly 
drew their swords, but were quickly overpowered and 
dispatched. It led to other "black dinners" and much 
blood was shed before all accounts were settled. The 
Edinburgh Castle dungeons are living tombs, and the 
Esplanade has been for centuries a veritable Golgotha. 
The Master of Forbes was there hanged, drawn, be- 
headed and dismembered in the reign of James V. for 
alleged treason, and there also was kindled the fire that 
burned to death Lady Jane Douglas, her husband and 
son looking on. Witches were burned there by dozens, 
the bonfires becoming literal bone-fires. 

Elgin Cathedral is one of Scotland's noblest ruins. 
It has been styled "the lantern of the North," "the 
glory of the Kingdom" and "the admiration of the 
foreigner." It was built in the form of a Jerusalem 
or Passion Cross, and was the most magnificent of all 
Scottish Cathedrals. It was twice burned and de- 
spoiled often, falling into decay after the Reformation 



316 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and receiving the finishing touch of destruction from 
Cromwell's troops. Some graves in it are worth noting, 
even if we exclude the stone-coffin that tradition says 
once held the body of King Duncan, mortally wounded 
by Macbeth. I was greatly interested in a fine stone sar- 
cophagus with recumbent knight in full armor, and in- 
scriptions testifying that Baron Hay of Lochloy slept 
below. The date of his death was given— 1421— before 
America was known to the other half of the world ! St. 
Mary's aisle is the resting place of the ancient house of 
Gordon, beginning with the "noble" and powerful 
Lord, Alexander Gordon, first Earl of Huntly, Lord of 
Gordon and Badenoch, who died near Huntly, 15th July, 
in the year of our Lord, 1470, ' ' and going down to the 
fifth and last Duke of Gordon who died 28th May, 
1836, and his widow in 1864. Early in October of this 
year Chichester Cathedral received the body of the 
sixth Duke of Richmond and Gordon, who died Sep- 
tember 26th in his eighty-sixth year. Bishop Dunbar 
died in 1435 and was buried in Elgin Cathedral. Three 
carved stone shields placed by him over the great 
window are still in perfect condition after the wind and 
weather of nearly five hundred years. A curious in- 
scription (that I saw duplicated in Bunhill fields) is on 
the south enclosing wall : 

"This world is a eitie full of streets, 
And death is the market that all men meets: 
If life were a thing that money could buy, 
The poor, could not live, and the rich would not die. ' ' 

In the New Cemetery at Elgin there is a ponderous 
tomb covering the remains of plain George Smith who 
died one of the richest men in the world,— or was it 
one of the poorest? It is not known that he took any 
of his gold with him. 



VOICES FKOM THE TOMBS. 317 

"That I spent, that I had 
That I gave, that I have 
That I left, that I lost.' 

It will now be a pleasant change to turn to some of 
the humorous and whimsical epitaphs I have seen. 

Stingy, miserly creatures have for ages been the tar- 
get of the epitaph-maker. The only two inscriptions 
Shakespeare is credited with writing hit off such char- 
acters. The ' i ten-in-the-hundred ' ' verse on John-a- 
Combe is well known, but the one on ' l Tom-a-Comb, 
alias Thin Beard, brother to John-a-Combe, " may be 
new to most readers : 

"Thin in beard and thick in purse, 
Never man beloved worse : 
He went to grave with many a curse 
The Devil and he had both one nurse. ' ' 

Another miser I noted polished off as follows: 

"Here lies Father Sparges 
Who died to save charges." 

And another: 

"You'd have me say here lies T. U. 
But I do not believe it: 
For after Death there's something due 
And he's gone to receive it." 

Still another: 

"Here lies one who for Medicines would not give 
A little gold and so his life he lost 
I fancy now he 'd wish again to live 

Could he but guess how much his funeral cost ! ' ' 

Putting "her" and "she" for "his" and "he" I 
believe I could write the right name to that one. 

With a more modern flavor, and from a locality 
nearer home : 

22 



318 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"Here Moneybag's body was dumped in its box. 

A grasping and crabbed old creature was he, 
Who died in the midst of his bonds and his stoeks, 

When some one convinced him Salvation was free. 
His soul for a time by his dross was illumed, 

But not very far did it go till it fell 
Where bullion is melted and greenbacks consumed 

And Arbie now works in the coal hole of —Gehenna ! ' ' 

Severe, but refreshing, and may preach a sermon to 

those who need it. 

More cheerful is the one from a North of Scotland 

parish : 

Noo Francie Faw is dead 

And here he lies; 
If a' be true that's said 

He yet will rise." 

It would hardly do to name the wretch who wrote : 

"Here snug in grave my Wife doth lie 
Now she's at rest— and so am I !" 

The original of George MacDonald's David Elgin- 
brod is in Dundee, Scotland: 

"Here lies old John Hildibroad 
Have mercy upon him good God 
As he would do, if he was God 
And God was old John Hildibroad." 

It recalls the petition of George King of Dublin to 
King George of Great Britain. The Irishman had been 
convicted of a capital felony, and in forwarding a me- 
morial to the King accompanied it with the following 
lines : 

' ' George King to King George sends his humble petition, 
Hoping King George will pity poor George King's condition, 
If King George to George King will grant a long day 
George King for King George forever will pray." 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 319 

It is pleasing to record that it procured a pardon. 

A pleasing verse is the one from the tombstone of a 
rather rough fellow who broke his neck by a fall from 
his horse : 

"My friend judge not me; 
Thou seest I judge not thee. 
Betwixt the stirrup and the ground 
Mercy I asked, mercy I found!" 

That beats the case of the thief on the Cross and re- 
minds me of Talmage's charitable remark on the sud- 
den death of a noted freethinker. 

From Cupar, Fife, Scotland, comes this one com- 
memorating William Eymour, maltman: 

"Through Christ I'm not inferiour 
To William the Conquerior. 

Rom. 8: 37." 

Dorsetshire, the land of Hardy the novelist, and Wm. 
Barnes, the divine, and delightful Doric singer, pastor 
and pastoral poet, furnishes "An Epitaph answered by 
a Gentleman on the Widower's Marrying again in a 
Fortnight": 

1 ' For me deceas 'd weep not, my dear, 
I am not dead, but sleeping here. 
Your time will come! Prepare to die. 
Wait but a while, you'll follow I." 

Answer. 
"I am not griev'd, my dearest Life, 
Sleep on— I've got another wife, 
And therefore cannot come to thee 
For I must go to bed to she. ' ' 

When Alfred Tennyson wrote about "the grand old 
gardener and his wife, ' ' smiling ' ' at the claims of long 
descent," he only echoed Prior's lines: 



320 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

"Nobles and heralds, by your leave, 

Here lies what once was Matthew Prior, 
The son of Adam and of Eve; 

Can Stuart or Nassau claim higher?" 

This, in turn, was probably suggested by the much 
older Scotch one: 

"Johnnie Carnegie* lieth here 
Deseendit of Adam and Eve 
Gif ony gang higher, wi' lands and gear, 
I'se willingly gie him leave." 

It might have been a gentle allusion to the Noble 
Lords Carnegie who have long figured prominently in 
Fifeshire. The Carnegie name is of frequent occur- 
rence in the old Scotch ballads, and who can forget the 
ringing triumphant climax of the song 

"And brave Carnegie, wha but he — 
The Piper o' Dundee!" 

Over the door of the Old Castle of Glenbucket ap- 
pears the following interesting inscription: 

"Adam Gordon: Helen Carnegie, 1590 
Nought on Earth Remains out Fame." 

Tennyson may have seen the beautiful epitaph: 

"Studious of peace he hated strife, 
Meek virtue filled his breast, 
His coat of arms a quiet life, 
An honest heart his crest." 



* My American friends have " a way of their own " in pronouncing 
the name " Carnegie," generally accentuating the first syllable, but they 
put the " Car " before the horse who give to " Car " the greater force. 

In Scotch it's easy, but I find 

In English rather plaguy 
To call a perfect word to mind 

To match this same Carnegie. 
But take from Craigie-lee the " lee " 

And only sound the " Craigie " 
And there you'll hear as well as see 

A rhyme to match Carnegie. 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 321 

It is fit to place beside : 

' ' Howe 'er it be it seems to me 
'Tis only noble to be good. 
Kind words are more than coronets 

And simple faith than Norman blood." 

And the Cincinnati poetess also has given us a coup- 
let equally fine : 

' ' There is nothing so kingly as Kindness 
And nothing so royal as Truth." 

Some of the epitaphs I have seen over tradesmen and 
professional men deserve quotation: 
On a painter : 

"Here lies a finished artist." 

On Sir John Strange, barrister: 

"Here lies an honest lawyer, — 
That's Strange." 

The famous " blacksmith" epitaph runs: 

"His sledge and hammer lie reclined, 
His bellows too has lost its wind, 
His coal is spent, his iron gone, 
His nails are drove, his work is done, 
His body's here clutch 'd in the dust. 
'Tis hoped his soul is with the just." 

On an infant eight months old, and since then applied 
to many ''enterprises of great pith and moment": 

"Since I have been so quickly done for. 
I wonder what I was begun for." 

I wonder if John Burroughs ever saw this one!— 

"Most epitaphs are sorry stuff. 
Here Burrows burrows— that's enough!" 

One with a canty Scotch flavor on a cattle-couper : 



322 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"Here lies interr'd a man o' micht 
They ca'd him Malcolm Downie 
He lost his life ae market nicht 
By fa 'in aff his pownie." 

On a Glasgow magistrate: 

"Approach and read not with your hats on, 
Here lies Bailie William "Watson. 
If Death's pale horse had gallop 'd fair 
This Bailie would have been a Mayor." 

On a coroner who hanged himself : 

"He lived and died 
By suicide." 

On William Lawes, a musician, killed at the Siege of 
Chester : 

" Conquer 'd is Concord; in this Urn there lies 
The Master of great music's mysteries; 
And in it is a riddle, like the cause, 
Will Lawes was slain by those whose Wills were Lawes. ' ' 

On a cobbler: 

"Death at a cobbler's door oft made a stand, 
And always found him on the mending hand, 
At last came Death in very stormy weather 
And ripp 'd the Soul from the Upper-Leather : 
The cobbler hurried for his awl, aghast, 
But Death cried zip ! and waxed him with his last ! ' ' 

"William Shenstone wrote a beautiful verse on a par- 
ish-clerk : 

' ' Here lies within his tomb so calm 
Old Giles : Pray sound his knell, 
He thought no song was like a Psalm 
No music like a Bell. 

In the opinion of this man Death is the greatest 
bowler : 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 323 

"I bowl'd, I struck, I caught, I stopp'd, 
Sure life's a game of cricket; 
I blocked with care, with caution popp'd, 
Yet Death has hit my wicket." 

The punning on names is endless, fine examples being 
the man named "Aire" who died for want of breath; 
' ' Nott ' ' who was killed yet was not dead ; the old ' ' Lady 
Mann" who "was a maid but died an old mann," and 
"Mrs. Mumm" whose inscription declared "Silence is 
best." 

Of unfortunate selection of texts perhaps it would 
be difficult to eclipse the following : 

"Here lie the bodies of James Robinson— and Ruth his wife. 

'Their warfare is accomplished.' " 

' ' Erected by Jane Smith to the memory of her husband John. 

'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' " 

Even learned divines have been the victims of much 
fun on account of the unconscious humor displayed in 
their graveyard sentiments. There is a well-authenti- 
cated case known to some of my readers where a devout 
professor made a series of amusing exhibitions in this 
line. He had married a second wife who was much 
richer than his first had been, and shortly after the 
second ceremony he erected a modest stone to the mem- 
ory of Number One, on which he announced— 

"To die is gain." 

In due course the second wife insisted on wills being 
drawn up by which the gentleman (who had little) was 
to leave all to his surviving partner, as she, in turn, 
left all she had to her husband, should he survive her. 
Soon after she died, and tombstone Number Two made 
its appearance inscribed: 

"Not my will but thine be done." 



324 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

The Florentine who invented spectacles has the fact 
recorded on his tomb and immediately after— 
"My God pardon his sins." 
Yarmouth furnishes: 

' ' Here lieth the body of Sarah Bloomfield, aged 74 years. 
'Cut off in blooming youth we can but pity!' " 

It is only equalled by the tribute to the Highland 
Cateran who had more than one dozen lives to his 
credit, and who died "aged 101." 

"Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." 

On a man who died on his wedding eve : 

' ' The wedding day appointed was 
And wedding clothes provided, 
But ere the day did come, alas! 
He sickened and he die did ! ' ' 

The oft-misquoted lines to be seen in Woolwich 
churchyard are : 

" As I am now, so you must be. 
Therefore, prepare to follow me." 

The postscript added by the widow is equal to the 
one on page 319. 

"To follow you I'm not content, 
Unless I know which way you went." 

In this hodge-podge of sepulchral pickings we should 
not omit some of the shorter ones. Perhaps the most 
noted are: 

Over an author— "Finis." 

Over an actor— "Exit." 

On an angler— "Hook 'd it." 

On Richard Groombridge — "He was." 

On Charles Knight— "Good Knight." 

On a- Scotch auctioneer— "Gone." 

Over two Englishmen— "Thorpe's Corpse" and 
"Jones' Bones." 



VOICES FROM THE TOMBS. 325 

And over three Irishmen— brothers : 

"Here three in one contented be 
In hope to meet the One in Three." 

The greatest of our poets have not disdained to com- 
pose epitaphs in prose and verse— some of them on the 
quick as well as on the dead. Ben Jonson, Pope, Mil- 
ton and Burns have all excellent examples to their 
credit. Beattie of "Minstrel" fame wrote the stately- 
inscription on Sir Wm. Forbes in Kearn Kirkyard. 
With all its finely balanced sentences it is eclipsed by 
the simple line I saw in Kildrummy: 

"Always trusted— ever true." 

In this burying ground— beautiful even in its neglect 
—are some very old monuments. In the Elphinstone 
vault, by a strange turn, the finely chiseled stone that 
had marked the grave of a servant is still in excellent 
preservation, while the more elaborate sculptures of the 
noble lords and ladies are either broken up or have 
completely disappeared. The explanation is that the 
one had been laid in an out-of-the-way corner, and the 
others given the place of prominence in the center aisle 
of the church, and consequently worn away or damaged 
by the feet of the congregation. It is often so in life. 
A poor, silly, chattering fool in some quiet retreat will 
live his three score years and ten and often much longer, 
while geniuses like Robert Fergusson and Robert Burns 
will be worn out by the world or themselves before they 
see thirty or forty. 

Auchindoir Kirkyard is more noted for its sculptures 
than its inscriptions. The ruins of the old church run 
back to the middle of the sixteenth century, and are 
believed to be near the site of the Castrum Auchin- 
dorice of Boethius. Among old marked graves in Auch- 
indoir are Patrick Gordon's (1513) and the one in- 
itialed : 



326 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

L. H. M. 

C. A. S. 
1580, 

and also bearing a shield lettered I. G., C. L., and 
charged with, the Leith and Gordon arms. These me- 
morials are now covered up by the alterations made in 
burying some recent Gordons of Craig. The Minister 
of Auchindoir from 1633 until 1667 was a St. Andrew's 
student named Wm. Davidson.* 

This chapter may be fittingly concluded with two quo- 
tations that very well sum up the whole matter of Life. 
The first is from Young : 

"Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 
What though we wade in wealth or soar in fame! 
Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies'; 
And 'Dust to dust' concludes her noblest song." 

The last verse was by Disraeli considered the sad- 
dest lines in all literature, being the well-known stanza 
from Gray's Elegy: 

"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 

And all that beauty, all that wealth ere gave 
Await alike the inevitable hour, 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. ' ' 



* My mother's maternal ancestors, the Jamiesons (of Broom of Rhynie) , 
are buried in Auchindoir, and their graves are marked by two finely 
carved table stones, with Masonic emblems. From their ages as shown, 
and the records of other near relatives, I find that many of my forbears 
reached four-score, not a few ninety, and more than one case is claimed 
where the century mark was passed. 

Auchindoir Parish was dedicated to the Virgin Mary, whose name 
yet survives in " Mary Fair," held twice annually at Lumsden Village. 
Last year I attended the autumn market, but it was a poor show even 
compared to the glories of my school days. Before 1822 the market 
met at Newton and it was then the custom to award a lily — the cog- 
nizance of the Holy Virgin — with a pound note wrapped around it, 
to the best looking lass at the fair. My Uncle John Law was very 
proud to tell me that "Bonnie Mary Jamieson " had more than once 
borne off the prize. 



THE POET-LAUREATE OF THE LIVING 
LYRE. 

As Bayard Taylor sweetly wrote 
(O, would that I could sound a note 
With but an echo of his charm ! ) : 
" Eusebius never cared to farm ; 
'Twas not his call, in truth," he said; 
For Hershey was not Poet-made, 
But Poet-born — of rarest breed, 
As all may see who care to read. 

"He played on a harp of a thousand strings" did not 
refer to Eusebius Hershey, who made his fame secure, 
like Paganini, by evoking all the emotions with one. I 
had not been long in Lancaster County when I heard 
frequent references made to "The Living Poem" and 
other productions of this gifted singer, but could not 
among all my friends and acquaintances find any one 
who possessed a copy of his book. At last I advertised 
my wants, and after many harassing experiences I be- 
came the owner of "the first, second, third, fourth and 
fifth editions ' ' as specified on the covers of the volumes 
now lying beside me. 

I am more or less familiar with the musings of "the 
sweet singer of Michigan," of Edwin Payson Ham- 
mond, and of Bloodgood Cutter, not to mention "Jere- 
miah Judson's choicest gems"; but after weighing 
their merits and demerits I have come to the decision 
that all the minstrels named must yield the baize to 
Hershey. In the hope that others may derive some 
pleasure and profit from the verses of the euphonious 
Eusebius this short and entirely inadequate article is 
penned. 

Hershey 's ear was not perhaps extra precise at 
best, and living, as he did, in the land of the Penn- 

327 



328 HEEE AND THEEE IN" TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

sylvania-Germans it is true that lie fell somewhat into 
their ways of pronunciation. But there was method 
even in his deflections. For instance, in announcing 
his mission the sly old bard tickled his neighbors by 
adopting their peculiar articulation: 

" I give my thoughts in words quite brief ; 
God gave them to me, I belief; 
To leave in print — to edify 
For high and low before they die." 

" Impression on my mind God made 
That I should write before too lade." 

" Many sought and found indeed 
Sin is bitter, grace more sweed." 

There are some Scotch and Scotch-Irish in the val- 
ley of the Conestoga which may account for the follow- 
ing Doric : 

" I hope to God his soul is safe 
When I came back I saw his graif." 

Thus at one stroke Mr. Hershey found a rhyme for 
an unrhymable word, and also managed to flatter his 
canny-going friends. The great tobacco industries of 
the county were neatly remembered too: 

" Many do as Demas did, — 
Laboring for the Lord they quid." 

It is believed by his admirers that Eusebius also pre- 
pared a titbit for his purely Celtic readers, but the 
"spud" came to grief at the printer's hands and the 
Quaker City alone must share the praise and the blame : 

" Philadelphia — brotherly love ! 
God who also rules above 
Has fixed his eyes on that great spod 
Where Red Men long ago have trod." 

Quaint little bits of autobiography are scattered 
through his volume, from which we find that he was 
born in the middle of summer and that may partially 
explain how he came to be such "a warm baby": 



THE LAUKEATE OF THE LIVING LYRE. 329 

" August is to me quite dear, 
The month when I did first appear ; 
A little infant helpless came, 
My father gave to me a name." 

Another wonderful event happened in this red-letter 
month : 

" In August, on a summer's day, 
When fifty-three I then could say, 
God in his mercy did give me 
Wisdom to write more poetry." 

Like the Eusebius of Bayard Taylor's poem, Her- 
shey tells us that he had "worked on farm"— " and 
mill." Furthermore, evidently less in anger than in 
sorrow : 

" I helped my father to build a barn, 
It was a favor, and no harm." 

He also tells us— 

" Some years I staid as single man " 

but finally was captured "by Mary Ann." It is true, 
he admits,— 

" She counted years two more than I," 

Then offsets this by asking: 

" But who can tell which first must die ? " 

In his ' ' Song of The Four Seasons ' ' he reverts again 
to his favorite month with characteristic speech. He 
was, I am told, a popular reciter of his own poems and 
one can fancy the solemn feelings excited by the next 
stanza : 

" In that month my second birth 
With me took place, it was no mirth: 
I love each summer's month indeed, 
August above the rest is sweed." 

That he was a keen observer is everywhere appar- 
ent, as witness : 

" In the summer birds do sing 
And their Maker praises bring: 
While the lambs do skip and play, 
And some farmers make their hay." 



330 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

For giving much in little he has rarely been excelled. 
Says he: 

" One night I was locked in a room, 
Thank God, I was not there alone. 
Next morning, happy, I walked out 
So soulful happy I could shout. 
I then proceeded on my journey 
In good humor on my pony." 

It is interesting to know a great author's methods of 
composition, how he comports himself in his study and 
so forth; consequently we should all relish the little 
details that our faithful lyrist has given us, and after 
reading the specifications can conjure up a pretty good 
picture of Eusebius wooing the muse.* 

" While I now on my knees do write." 

" While now I write with ink and pen 
I think of women — and of men." 

" The little stand where leans my head 
Is wet with tears that I have shed." 

And finally, to be more specific: 

" The year is eighteen seventy-seven 
The month of May, before eleven, 
Eleven o'clock now in the night 
In Philadelphia on my knees I write." 

What a pity he did not tell us his street and num- 
ber, but probably our wandering modern minstrel had 
his own reasons for withholding the information! He 
confesses he had "a mother-in-law with two sons" and 
he might well have hesitated ' ' to brave her tongue and 
face their guns." Listen! 

" I am father of one child, 
In my youth I was quite wild; 
Yesterday, my eyes did see: 
Grandfather, now they do call me." 



Wm. Cowper, before him, has specifically declared: 

" But when a poet takes the pen, 
Far more alive than other men, 
He feels a gentle tingling come 
Down to his finger and his thumb." 



THE LAUREATE OF THE LIVING LYRE. 331 

That he had a ready pen goes without saying. 

" Twenty-five verses I did write 
In the forenoon, while daylight: 
Two meetings since I did attend 
Of such a course I'll not repend." 

" It is now about bed time 
If God will give me some more rhyme 
I'll put them down on paper white 
Although it is late in the night." 

"Where am I at!" once queried a Congressman, but 
long before that the lyrical Lancastrian had asked: 

" What is it now I next should write ? " 

" The fiftieth verse, — eleven o'clock 
In the forenoon, I shall not stop; 
I'll dip my pen in ink and write 
If God says so, until 'tis night." 

What true poet anyhow would pause for such mate- 
rial things as lunch or dinner? He buckles on his ar- 
mor and sternly announces : 

" The time for writing now has come, 
And by God's help I'll have it done." 

Once it is true, but once only he confessed he was 
exhausted, but before condemning him consider his ex- 
cuse : 

" I hardly know what more to write, 
In my heart there is no spite." 

For frankness, Hershey is to be commended: 

" One day I spoke with tears in eyes 
To my earthly father, here's no lies!" 

And again: 

" My calling is a watchman, I 
From out my watch-tower sit and spy." 

Few poets have equalled the picturesqueness of that 
couplet. The "I" placed as it is looms up like a light- 
house in the midst of a stormy sea. It is emblematic 
too of the tenaciousness of the man. See how he hugs 
his favorite thoughts : 



332 HEBE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

" And when at last I seek my bed 
My night cap on, not in my head. 
Before the next day may begin 
I hope the roof may not fall in. 
But if it does I wish it known 
With pen and ink as I have shown, 
And to the very last proclaim: 
Eusebius Hershey is my name!" 

Although of a serious cast he could indulge in a 
pun: 

" From Matthew, Mark and Luke and John 
Mark what I say — I'm not yet done ": — 

—and has even shown hilarity at times: 

" But I must go, I'll feel the woe 
If I refuse the trump to blow." 

Ben Jonson has told us of Shakespeare 's facile pen ; 
our poet is his own recorder : 

" I know not where my pen shall stop ; 
The ink is willing still to drop." 

And none of the Elizabethan dramatists could say: 

" I preached to colored and to white 
In daylight and by candle light." 

In another poem he says : 

" Dear colored race toe wish you well." 

Note the happy alliteration. It also appears in — 

" The righteous all shall prosper well 
While sinners shall be hurled to hell." 

And in— 

" Some useful work I hope to do 
By preaching and by proxy too." 

With all his sweetness he was a fearless critic. In 
discussing pride he begins at the beginning and shows 
that Eve's daughters live up to their mother's reputa- 
tion: 



THE LAUREATE OF THE LIVING LYRE. 333 

" While the child is not yet here 
The wicked mother does appear, 
And with her wicked hands prepares 
Gegaws for the child, she snares." 

" Of experiences I some things can say 
I travell'd matrimony's way; 
Over twenty-seven years I'm in this school; 
I write with wisdom, I'm no fool." 

In recounting where pride flourishes he writes: 

" On the dancing floor, that's low, 
There you see this sin doth grow." 

Then again : 

" Some will buy on trust for show, 
Thus the devil makes them go 
Swiftly down the path to hell, 
There forevermore to dwell." 

Some believe he had a slap at editors when he was 
inspired to say: 

" Tobacco and the whisky-stink 
Oft are mixed with smell of ink." 

When the Centennial Exposition Sunday closing 
movement was on the tapis Eusebius Hershey's voice 
was heard with no uncertain sound: 

"Don't open on the Sabbath day 
That show of natuial things, / say; 
Let God and all the Nations know 
That we are more than brutes below." 

"Republican" and "Democrat" had to him little 
meaning and called forth an apothegm that equals the 
warbling of the Sweet Swan of Avon in his rosiest 
mood: 

" What is the name, the party name ? — 
The name is after all the same! 
The question is: — Which does the right? 
Let him be branded Black or Bright! 
Good men at present are but few, 
So let's not fight about the hue." 

23 



334 HEEE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

He never balked for want of a rhyme. Who could 
nave better met the exigencies of the case than he has 
-done in his handling of persons and places both awk- 
ward to manipulate and difficult to chink? 

"My parents' names, without fancy, 
Hershey, Abraham and Nancy." 

" The place where we for years did live 
I'll to the reader plainly give 
Lancaster County, and Pa. 
Three miles of Manheim, north, I say." 

" There is a family Levi Reist, 
Death entered in their house now twyst." 

" It was in Philadelph-i-a 
He came to grief again, ha, ha! " 

" From Genesis to Malachi 
Good texts I found — I'll tell you why." 

His fidelity to truth operates throughout all his works. 
To him the poetic license never permitted any wander- 
ing from the facts. Speaking of his travels, he tells us 
that he journeyed— 

" Thousands of miles on different lakes, 
On rivers, too, in different States, 
On railroads — God knows best how far, .... 
On horseback, wagon — some grease was tar." 

Neither did he gloss over anything uncouth for the 
sake of a smoother effect. Note his description of a 
Camp Meeting in Ontario: 

" The minister in charge was there, 
Brother Jacks — he closed by prayer; 
We sang, I prayed, and then did read. 
The interpreter Cabbage had his seat 
Near to me, he spoke for me; 
I'll give correct what you can see 
How we did work for God so nice; 
This interpreting it goes twice. 
I read my text, then Cabbage read 
The truths into Ojibbway's head, 
We had a meeting very good 
With C. providing wholesome food." 



THE LAUREATE OF THE LIVING LYRE. 335 

The corn beef is not mentioned, but may be assumed. 
In another place he shows his knowledge of history : 

" Many, many years ago 
The Indian tribes had war, that's so." 

He rarely ventures on a feminine rhyme, but to let 
his reader know it is not because he cannot handle such 
endings, two fair examples are quoted: 

" This day I keep with God in quiet 
Last night with pills I took no diet." 

" The heathen Indian felt quite lonely 
Though they had killed his brother only." 

''They" might have slaughtered the whole family, 
and Homer Hershey felt called upon to offer a mild 
rebuke. 

Poets are too often of a pessimistic turn, and seldom 
thankful for the greatest blessings they enjoy. Euse- 
bius never forgot "what might have been," and fre- 
quently we meet with such grateful outbursts, as— 

" Thanks be to God, to-day I'm well, 
I might be long ago in hell." 

He had the true attitude of a great mind in regard 
to critics : 

" Some trifling one perhaps will laugh 
And say this matter all is chaff, 
But common people wheat will find 
And would-be cynics — never mind." 

He could, if he only would, but decided not to waste 
ink on them. He knew that even the best was cen- 
sured, and admits— 

" Strange, if all would praise my book, 
Such who read and in it look. 
Millions the Bible do despise, 
And think by doing so they're wise." 

" The Lining Poem speaks quite free ; 
Impartial readers clear can see 
That for their welfare I did write 
To work for God is my delight." 



336 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

And with a Baconian flight he confidently an- 
nounces : 

" Yes, when my hand is cold and dead 
My book will speak to sinners yed." 

Gentle readers, has the prophecy not been already 
amply fulfilled? The bard is buried long ago, and 
we are here. 

But sometimes he had his ' * doots ' ' : 

" Perhaps I soon should cease to write, 
In reading some may not delight." 

" Perhaps my pen ought now to stop 
But still the ink will freely drop." 

" I hope I do not paper waste 
Although at times I work in haste." 

His reasons for composition are sometimes given with 
startling frankness: 

" I think I should write lines to-day, 
Some one may come along this way." 

" I'm ready for poetic work, 
I have the gift — I must not shirk." 

" My subjects I perhaps should change, 
But where could I from error range 1 " 

Yes, where? 

He had no mock modesty about his abilities and the 
probable reception of his poems : 

" My verses may sometimes seem queer 
When they to millions do appear. 
Bead on, read often, time will tell 
That I have labored much and well." 

" And after I am dead and gone 
My lines to millions will speak on. 
To sinners they will say, Nov stop 
Next step you into Hell may drop." 

But, in his own words: 



THE LAUREATE OP THE LIVING LYRE. 337 

" I gave of this in former writ, 
This subject then I here shall quit." 

And to conclude from the poet-preacher himself: 

" Conclusion ! Oh, the thought, how deep ; 
Hearts feel solemn, eyes will weep." 

" Two verses more and I am done, 
This couplet finished, leaves but one." 

To give justice to our author I have selected for the 
ending a specimen of his best style as shown in the 
termination of a letter written by him to his "earthly 
children": 

" Farewell, Jacob, and Nancy too, 
Be always to each other true. 

Eusebius Hershey 
(and my wife), 
[and with a fresh start] 
Dear children live a pious life; — 

" Eusebius Hershey is my name, — 
I seek not here for earthly fame; 
Rebersburg is my address — 
In Christ I look for happiness! — 

" Centre County now comes in, — 
I know I hate the ways of sin, 
Pennsylvania comes below; — 
From earth to heaven I hope to go!" 



ABERDEEN AWA'. 

" Eence fae Hose it made its gains, 
Noo the envy o' the planet, 
For its Paper, Fish an' Granite, 
And its special brands o' Brains." 

Aberdeen with its "Point Law," its "Baubie Law 
Kirk" and its record of "James Law" made a Burgess 
of the city in the presence of William Shakespeare* 
would always have a special personal interest for me, 
even were it not the capital of my native shire, well 
known to me for many years and always destined to 
claim my admiration and my love. Happy am I to 
think also that it is honestly as beautiful a town as in 
the British Isles, its cleanness, its sturdiness and its 
warm-heartedness being fairly reflected from its trio 
of well-known names— "The Silver City," "The Gran- 
ite City" and " Bon- Accord. " 

Some antiquarians think Aberdeen was the "De- 
vana" of the Romans. The name still flourishes, al- 
though now generally spelled "Devanha." Most of 
the Scottish sovereigns from the days of William the 
Lion (1179) have visited the city, and many of them 
have conferred special honors and privileges on it. 
Long before Edinburgh was the capital of Scotland 
Aberdeen was a royal burgh and a port of extensive 
foreign trade. It has therefore a lang as well as a fine 
pedigree. 

One of the most interesting sights of Aberdeen is 
"The Cross," not so old as some other local relics, but 
in its way surpassing anything to be found in Scotland. 
It has ten high-relief portraits of Scottish rulers— the 
six Scotch Jameses, Mary, James VII. and II. and 

* See my " Seashore of Bohemia " for full details. 

338 



339 

Charles I. and II. Two other panels contain the royal 
and burgh arms. The Aberdeen arms, worth noting, 
are gules, three towers triple-towered, within a double 
tressure-flowered and counter-flowered, argent. The 
supporters are two leopards, and the motto is "Bon- 
Accord." The "Cross" has also a graceful center col- 
umn wreathed with thistles and crowned with a white 
marble unicorn, bearing on its breast a shield charged 
with the Lion of Scotland. Not far from this monu- 
ment of historic importance I noticed a fine new granite 
fountain said to be the gift of a street merchant who 
made all his money at his stand in the neighborhood. 
The Square of Castle Street has also a fine monument 
to the Fifth and Last Duke of Gordon, a piece of work 
deserving special attention as it is one of the rare statues 
cut from Aberdeen white granite. The Square has been 
a market place from time immemorial, and a walk 
among the various booths and stalls will always be in- 
teresting. It is also a fine place from which to view 
the long sweep of Union Street, that Queen Victoria 
crowned with the compliment of being l ' the most beau- 
tiful she had seen in all her dominions." Close at 
hand are the military barracks and parade ground, and 
the big Salvation Army citadel nearby seems in har- 
mony with all the surroundings. The Aberdeen Mu- 
nicipal Buildings, containing the whole apparatus of 
municipal and local government (except the prison), 
are crowned by a clock tower 200 feet high. In a fire- 
proof chamber of this tower the town charters and rec- 
ords are kept, and enjoy the distinction of being, next 
to those of London, the most complete city archives in 
the United Kingdom. There are many fine portraits 
in the Town Hall, notably specimens of the work of 
George Jamesone ("the Scottish Vandyke"), John 
Philip, and Sir George Reid, until recently President 
of The Royal Scottish Academy, and all three Aber- 



340 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

donian artists. A feature of the hall is the great wealth 
of the armorial bearings, over eighty panels being rilled 
with the arms of the learned and the brave associated 
with Aberdeen by birth, services or education. The 
stained glass windows are also fine. Marischal College 
is at present undergoing extensive additions, and one 
result of the recent change has been the destruction of 
the house (No. 64 Broad St.) where Lord Byron lived 
with his mother, and received many impressions that 
bore poetic fruit in after years. An old door motto 
has been happily preserved and built into the wall over 
the principal entrance to the college: 

"They have said: what say they? Let them say!" 

It is believed to have been originally set up by some 
member of the Keith family who had had so much to 
do with the college in its early days. The Mitchell 
additions to Marischal College make a splendidly bal- 
anced pile. In the "Aulton" or "Old Town" is lo- 
cated "King's College," the other half of "The Uni- 
versity of Aberdeen." It runs back to 1500, and with 
the Old Machar Cathedral brings up memories of 
Bishops Elphinstone and Gavin Dunbar, Hector Boece, 
the historian, and John Barbour, the poet of freedom.* 

Almost at every turn one meets a statue in Aberdeen. 
It is therefore fitting that the biggest bronze in Scot- 
land should be in "Bon- Accord "—the heroic figure of 
Sir William Wallace f with his manly "declaration of 

* For further notice of Aberdeen University see p. 222. 

1 1 never see the colossal statue of William Penn on the New City 
Hall, Philadelphia, without feeling that once again Aberdeen is on top. 
This is the biggest occupied building in the world. The Penn statue 
stands 37 feet 6 inches in the bronze, at a height of 510 feet and 
weighs about 60,000 pounds. The figure is cubically 216 times life-size, 
and from the street looks like an ordinary man. It is the largest 
cast bronze statue of modern times, and was designed by Alexander 
Calder, an Aberdonian, who was also the artist of all the ornamental 
work and the various figures about the City Hall. His statue of Gen- 



ABERDEEN AWA\ 341 

independence" carved on the base. There is another 
of Scotland's hero in the niche of "The Wallace 
Tower, ' ' Netherkirkgate. Of other statues not already 
noted I may mention two of Queen Victoria, and those 
to Burns, Prince Albert, General Gordon, Priest Gor- 
don, Provost Blaikie and Bishop Skinner (son of the 
Poet of Tullochgorum— who better deserved one him- 
self). Aberdeen has also several galleries and schools 
of art, museums, news-rooms, and of course free li- 
braries and special libraries in abundance. The city 
is well supplied with churches too, and a fine example 
of Aberdeen thrift is shown in the East and West 
churches where one spire is made do duty for two con- 
gregations ! There are many pleasant little parks in 
the town, and the "Duthie" and "Victoria" with the 
glorious Aberdeen links furnish abundance of breath- 
ing space for the citizens and ample opportunity for 
amusement and recreation. 

The New Market of Aberdeen has long been a 
prominent city-mark. With its basement, ground 
hall and galleries, all filled with stalls for the 
sale of every kind of meat, fish, fruit, vegetables, 
toys, trinkets, clothing and general merchandise 
it is unsurpassed by any market house in Britain. 
Here in Lancaster, Pa., we pride ourselves on our fine 
markets— and they are as fine as to be found in the 
States— but we have nothing to compare with this mag- 
nificent three-decked Aberdeen Ship of Commerce— 
315 feet long, 106 feet broad and rising to a height of 
45 feet. Long ago Aberdeen butter was so famous that 
its honor has been defended in a duel by swords, and 
Aberdeen beef, as every one knows, is the standard of 
the world. The New Market shows in abundance a third 



eral Meade, considered by good judges his best effort, with many fine 
busts and other miscellaneous work, may be seen in Philadelphia, where 
Mr. Calder resides. His oldest son, Alexander Stirling Calder, has al- 
ready as a sculptor succeeded in " riving his father's bonnet." 



342 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

claimant for unique excellence in "the Finnan Had- 
die," the golden morsel and choicest titbit that ever 
graced a poor man 's table, and a fitting feast for kings 
or queens. The name is derived from "Findon" (a 
little fishing- village nearby), and not from "the fins 
of the fish"!— as I once heard a Banffshire man ex- 
plain to an enquiring American. The Findon process 
of curing haddocks is now successfully introduced into 
America— by Aberdeen men, I believe— and at all the 
first-class hotels throughout the country the Finnan 
Haddie in season occupies a prominent place on the 
bill of fare. 

When Dr. Samuel Johnson was touring Scotland 
with Boswell, the lexicographer, much to his biogra- 
pher's disappointment, could not be prevailed upon to 
enjoy a Finnan Haddie (even then more famous than 
the Oracle himself !)— but in spurning it he only cut 
off his nose to spite his face. He did better in Aber- 
deen with the Scotch broth provided by Mrs. Gordon. 
"Bozzy" was afraid he might not care for it ("them" 
would be locally correct) and when his hostess saw him 
wolfing down a plateful in his well-known style she 
ventured to say: "You seem to like our broth, Doctor?" 
"Good enough for hogs!" he grunted. "Then," 
quietly said Mrs. Gordon, "pray let me help you to 
some more of it. ' ' The faithful James did not put that 
in his book, any more than he told us how his own 
father at Auchinleck in a heated argument wiped up 
the floor with the great Englishman, or how he met his 
match in Adam Smith, whose "Wealth of Nations" is 
said to have a circulation next in extent to the Bible. 
When Johnson said to Smith "You lie," the good 
Adam showed enough of the old Adam to call his op- 
ponent "a son of a "! There is another Aber- 
deen Johnson story not given in the immortal "Life." 
The Doctor was standing looking at a man "harling" a 



ABERDEEN A\vV. 343 

wall, and getting rather close he blurted out, "I trust 
I am not in your way, sir?" "Oh, ye 're nae in my 
way, ' ' said the canny son of Bon- Accord, * ' if ye 're nae 
in your ain, ' ' accompanying his last word with a splash 
of lime that was as much of a decoration to the Doctor 
as the Burgess ticket he was flaunting in his hat. It 
was in an Aberdeen inn that Boswell, as he tells us, 
first conceived his idea of writing the "Life of John- 
son."* 

No one visiting Aberdeen should fail to see the Docks 
and The Fish Market proper. The Aberdeen docks 
cover thirty-six acres of land, and as large a body of 
water as any single dock in the Kingdom. The fish 
market is considered the best in Great Britain. Some- 
times as many as forty steam trawlers and fifty line 
boats will arrive in a morning and deliver 1,500 tons 
of fish, that will be absorbed by traders in a few hours. 
In 1900 the value of white fish landed at the port of 
Aberdeen amounted to over three million dollars, so 
that the pillage of the sea compares favorably with the 
tillage of the land. I often feel sorry for my American 

* 1. When George the Third praised Johnson's pen 
As on the Sage one day he lighted, 
O, what a thousand pities then 

The mighty Samuel was not knighted! 
" Sir Samuel Johnson " — would it not 
Have finely matched — " Sir Walter Scott " ? 

2. Who more indulged in saying " Sir " 

To keep the conversation stirring? 
The eloquent philosopher 

Was surely unexcelled at " sirring " ; 
And who, I trow, had dared to gird 
Had Royal George the Doctor " sirr'd " ? 

3. But when he thought the matter o'er, 

And all it meant in fullest measure, 
The King I do believe forbore 

Because it might have killed with pleasure 
The boozy "Bozzy " to have heard 
His idol had been so preferr'd! 



344 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

friends who think they have something wonderful in 
the bunch of bones they call shad. Although much big- 
ger in bulk, in quality it is honestly only a shadow of the 
delicious herring drawn from the German Ocean. 

The Aberdeen Bathing Station will also compare 
favorably with any modern up-to-date resort. The 
trolley tram-car is now in Aberdeen and affords a good 
means of seeing the leading streets of the town if one 
is pressed for time. The city is well provided with 
hospitals, including what is not so often seen — a sick 
children 's hospital with beds for sixty children. Aber- 
deen Royal Infirmary has accommodations for 250 
beds, and is a finely equipped institution. 

The Royal Lunatic Asylum is under the management 
of an Auchindoir man, Dr. William Reid, and I was 
much interested in a visit I paid the establishment. 
The buildings and furnishings are fine and the grounds 
extensive and attractive. In addition to the asylum 
proper there is a department for private patients, and 
a farm retreat of nearly 300 acres for those who can be 
benefited by outdoor labor. In going through the asy- 
lum a curious and pathetic incident happened. Dr. 
Reid called my attention to a group of patients in one 
of the large sitting rooms and said : "A Lumsden man 
is there— I wonder if he would know you?" I recog- 
nized him at once, and to my astonishment he also knew 
me and called me by name without the least hesitation, 
although we had not met for over twenty years, when 
he was mentally well and a grown man— and I was yet 
a boy. He was a victim of religious melancholia, and, 
although a fine specimen of physical excellence appar- 
ently, his mind was hopelessly gone, and had been for 
a long time. The quickness with which he attached 
himself to me, and told me of our plans for escape 
was as strange as it was sad, and I have not yet ceased 
to wonder at his mental alertness in that direction. 



ABERDEEN AWA*. 345 

But to know that he was so well cared for, and would 
be as long as necessary, if he lived to be a hundred 
years old, was a silver lining to the cloud. 

The newspaper published nearest to Lumsden is The 
Huntly Express, the capital of Strathbogie* being only 
thirteen miles from "the Lum." Mr. Joseph Dunbar 
is editor and proprietor and provides a journal that, 
with abundance of local news and an excellent gener- 
ally miscellany, is a welcome visitor throughout the 
Strath. Aberdeen, however, is the real news center 
and among my pleasantest memories are visits I paid 
to the editorial rooms of The Free Press, The Daily 
Journal and The People's Journal. The two first 
named papers are morning dailies, each having their 
evening editions, Gazette and Express respectively. 
The Alexanders have long been associated with the 
Free Press, Dr. William Alexander, the author of the 
immortal "Johnny Gibb of Gushetneuk" and other in- 

* Huntly, the capital of the Northern land where the Gordons had 
the guidin' o't, was one time known by the curious name of " Tirrie- 
soul." It is a beautiful little town of about 5,000 inhabitants and is 
situated near the meeting of the Bogie and the Deveron — the Wan 
Water and the Glamour of George MacDonald's fiction, our oldest and 
perhaps our still most distinguished living Scotch novelist being a 
native of the place. Its fine old castle is one of the great ruins of 
the shire. Its Gordon schools have justly earned a high local repu- 
tation, and with its Brander Free Library and Reading Room, prove 
that it is up to date in educational matters. I paid the town several 
visits last year and came to the conclusion that it was an ideal sum- 
mer resort, interesting in itself, and the center of a wide district where 
almost every spot is alive with history, song or romance. 

On the way to Gartly one day I had the rare pleasure of a crack 
with Mr. Smith, the old schoolmaster at " The Riggin'," as fine a 
Shakespearean scholar as I met in Scotland, with a critical taste and 
affection only satisfied by facsimiles of the first editions of the poet's 
masterpieces. Even on this remote farm the Scotsman was delivered 
every day by noon from Edinburgh, and thus the old man kept abreast 
with the news of the world. 

Another day I paid a visit to Blairmore Castle in the neighboring 
parish of Glass, where I was well repaid for the time I spent, but 
missed the long-promised welcome from the genial Laird, who had un- 



346 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEBES. 

imitable sketches of Northern life and character, hav- 
ing been editor-in-chief for many years until his death 
in February, 1894. I met his brother and nephew who 
are worthily following in his footsteps. At the Jour- 
nal office I had a chat with Mr. Presslie, who has since 
gone to sup his porritch somewhere about Norwich, and 
sing the praises of the Yarmouth bloater instead of the 
Aberdeen herring. The People's Journal office is 
really a branch of Sir John Leng's establishment at 
Dundee, but is so popular in Aberdeen and district and 
gives so much attention to strictly local news that it 
is the leading weekly. Mr. Duncan, who managed "P. 
J. ' ' affairs in the North has had his own obituary re- 
corded since I was in Aberdeen. 

I was very fortunate in knowing Mr. Dove Paterson, 
one of "Bon- Accord's" best known sons, and an elocu- 
tionist without an equal in Scotland. He made a suc- 
cessful tour in this country with the Eoyal Edinburgh 
Concert Co., and I could not help but notice how well 
he had profited by his Transatlantic experiences in his 
alertness, adaptability, home-life, and in other impor- 
tant differences from canny-going stay-at-homes. Mr. 

expectedly died when I was on the sea, sincerely regretted by every one 
who knew him. Mrs. Geddes and her accomplished daughters showed 
me many interesting relics, including a perfect specimen of native pot- 
tery, discovered near the site of the present castle and believed to be 
of prehistoric workmanship. 

It was at Huntly that I thought I heard the richest, most graphic 
Aberdeenshire Doric in all my travels. The people there realize that 
" r " is a letter of the alphabet, with an acute accent on it, and I 
would neither " conter sic a notion ' nor ' gir-r-r-rn aboot it.' Once in 
a Huntly bus pretty well crowded, and moving up a hill at a fair pace, 
an old lady opposite me thrust her big gingham umbrella into my hand 
and said: "See man! gie Bussy a pouk wi' that, as I want to loup 
aff at the yett by the heid o' the brae." The rumble of the wheels 
and the general conversation made a verbal order impossible, so the 
driver was promptly " poukit " and he realized the good sense displayed 
with a nod of approval and by duly stopping his horses at the place 
desired. 



ABERDEEN AWA\ 347 

Paterson was just the man to ''trot me around," and 
his kindness and self-sacrifice and unusual enterprise 
put me under obligations that it will take me some time 
to equal, and makes me feel glad I was able to show him 
attention when he was here. We took in everything 
from kirks and Braid Hill conventicles to concert halls 
and Her Majesty's Theatre, and from Brig o' Balgow- 
nie to the Wellington suspension bridge. I had the 
opportunity of hearing Mr. Paterson publicly and pri- 
vately, and always with pleasure and admiration. He 
is the best interpreter of Burns I know, putting new 
life and meaning into the most hackneyed poems. Mr. 
Paterson has also developed high executive ability as 
a manager and director of entertainments on a civic 
scale. When I mention that all this is done in his spare 
time, and that he is known in business as one of the 
best dry goods salesmen in Aberdeen, his success is as 
remarkable as it is all the more praiseworthy. 

A notable sight of Aberdeen is the Macdonald collec- 
tion of the portraits of national artists, many painted 
by themselves. The Girard of the Granite City was 
Eobert Gordon, whose college, opened in 1750, now sup- 
ports 1,000 day scholars, as well as large evening 
classes. Aberdeen was at one time famed for its clip- 
pers, but the ship-building there now is confined to other 
lines. The new pier is worth a visit, and if seen in a 
storm is a sight long to be remembered. The granite 
industry is still of first importance in Aberdeen, and 
fine artistic specimens of the gray and the red stone 
from Aberdeen yards are to be found all over the 
world. 

A recent statistician has proved from accepted rec- 
ords that in the matter of eminent men of the highest 
grade and in varied lines of activity and usefulness, 
Aberdeenshire leads not only Scotland and Great Brit- 



348 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

ain but the whole wide world.* Yes, grippy as some 
may call them, considered in fair ratio, they surpass 
all others even in the matter of philanthropy! Long 
ago a wise citizen used to say: "Tak' awa' Aiberdeen 
and twal mile aroon it and farf are ye?" The circle 

* Of course the Aberdeen folks have a good conceit o' themselves, as 
they have a perfect right so to feel, and as any man worth hi3 salt 
generally has, but it was not an Aberdonian who was the perpetrator 
of the following daring piece of panegyric I once heard and had re- 
ported at a Burns banquet : The toast was " Bonnie Scotland " and on 
reaching the peroration honest Willie in his enthusiasm solemnly de- 
clared : " Far be it from me, cronies, to speak of sacred things in any 
spirit of levity, or contrary to the Kirk and Catechism; but I have 
often thought if God in His infinite wisdom ever should think of mak- 
ing a quartette of the Most Holy Trinity there is only one man who 
could ever meet the requirements, and that man — need I say it, is a 
Scotchman — and need I say it again? — Robert Burns of Brig o' Doon, 
Ayrshire, now in glory, singing to a golden harp with music envied 
by the angels — " Bonnie Scotland, I adore thee " ! ! ! Ingersoll said in 
his wildest flights he had never equalled this audacious outburst. The 
" cronies " thought Bill inspired, and probably he was — by barley-bree. 
After sober second thought he himself wondered if he " hadna mixed 
up the bard o' Ayr wi' the sweet singer o' Israel, seein' there was sae 
muckle in common wi' them in the wye o' lasses and o' sangs — as 
Robbie himsel' has written." Poor Will had still another " wonder " 
coming to him, and that was why " his apology to some seemed to 
gie the greatest offence of all." 

f " Far " — whaur, — where. 

The Aberdeen dialect, with its " f 's " for " wh's " and its " ee's " for 
" oo's " and other curious variations from the classical or poetic Doric, 
has also a wealth of words and happy phrases peculiarly its own. 
Gweeshtens me! I widna like a sclaiven Bogieside tongue to fa' foul 
o' me. A sclaffert in the lug wid be naething till't. He wad be a 
geyan swippert bleck that cudna be ourteen, fin a soople darger cam' 
knypin in ahin' 'im. Fairly, fairly! An' the Sooth buddies are nae- 
thing bit shargers fin it comes to a richt stramash. Ye min' on big 
Jock that said " Fee, Fa, Fo, Fum " ? That proved he was an Aiberdeen- 
shire chiel, an' a champion, I'm thinkin'. A' weel-a-wins there's nae sic 
protty f alias noo! An' fin I wiz in the toon I was ameezed to hear the 
droll like wye some o' them pitt the wird "like" to their sentences. 
" I wiz comin' up the street — like." " Foo's a' the day — like ? " " Oh, 
geylies — like." They'll nae like it fin they see't in print, an' I thocht it 
unco queer to hear't, but mair comic than annoyin' — like ! " Weel, 
noo, isna he a cure? He beta hae his yammer, peer craitur, an' we'll 
forgie 'im seein' he's sib till oorsels, an' him sae hyne awa', — like! " 



ABERDEEN AWA'. 349 

has been widened since that statement was made, but 
it is still true, I think, that the little whale-shaped 
county in the northeast of Scotland, size for size, is 
second to no place on the map in the production of 
granite and brains, and in the export of the same valu- 
able commodities. 



24 



THE BEITISH MUSEUM. 

Since Art and Literature began 

Up to the present year 
The finest work of mortal man 

Is concentrated here. 

The biggest library in the world ! Even in a super- 
ficial manner it would take several days to see it. The 
reading room alone cost nearly a million dollars. The 
dome is 106 feet high and 140 feet in diameter. Ad- 
mission is by a reader 's ticket, bnt strangers are always 
treated courteously. I called for several books to test 
its machinery and organization and had no delay or 
trouble in having them at my desk. Almost every seat 
was filled with students, and they looked to have ' ' stay- 
ing" qualities. To wander through the departments 
of antiquities is to be transported to Egypt and Assy- 
ria, or Greece and Eome, according to the rooms visited. 
Everything is on the richest and fullest scale. The 
government allots more than half a million dollars 
yearly to the British Museum for maintenance and ex- 
pansion. Its chiefs are acknowledged experts in their 
lines and its agents are to be found wherever anything 
worth having that it does not have may be secured. 

My time limiting me to my inspection I stuck pretty 
close to the manuscripts, charters, rare books, and seals, 
etc., mostly to be seen in the neighborhood of what is 
called "The King's Library," "The Students' Boom" 
and "The Granville Library." 

Of "Royal Autographs" it seemed that every Brit- 
ish sovereign from the days of Richard II. was repre- 
sented. I will quote a few tit-bits that may instruct 
as well as entertain. Bluebeard Henry VIII. 's letter 
to Cardinal Wolsey closed— 

350 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 351 

"Surly yow have so substancyally orderyd oure maters 
bothe off thys syde the see and byonde that in myne oppynion 
lityll or. no thyng can be addyd . . . Wryttyn with the 
hand off your lovying master Henry R. ' ' 

Anne Boleyn's letter to the same prelate, before her 
marriage, shows that "y's" for "i's" were fashion- 
able. 

Queen Elizabeth's specimen is a draft of one of her 
throne speeches. 

Oliver Cromwell, though not a sovereign, has his 
place too. He was a poor speller, but did not claim 
to be "a literary feller." 

George III. 's paragraph had a fine ring. "Born and 
educated in this country I glory in the name of Brit- 
ain. ' ' 

Queen Victoria's signature at four years of age and 
a letter written at her coronation completed the series ; 
except specimens of such foreigners as Peter the Great 
and Napoleon Bonaparte. The great Frenchman's let- 
ter had been captured by Nelson after the battle of the 
Nile. 

In the historical group : 

Perkin Warbeck had a sample signed "Your frend 
Ry chard off England." 

Cardinal Wolsey declares his note to be "Wrythyne 
at Asher this twysday [9 March, 1530] with the rude 
hand of your dayly bedysman, T. Caedinalis Eboe. 

Sir Thomas More wrote : "At my pore house at Chel- 
chith" [Chelsea]. 

Archbishop Cranmer valued the pleasure shown him 
by Lord Cromwell more "than yf you hadd given me 
a thousande pownde. "... Your own bowndman ever, 
T. Cautaueier." 

Mary, Queen of Scots, has a letter in French, dated 
"de mon estroite prison de Chifeld" [Sheffield]. 
There is also a contemporary account of her execution 



352 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

by an eye-witness. The final scene is thus described: 

"Then lying upon the blocke most quietly, and stretching 
out her armes she cryed 'In manus tuas Domine,' etc., three 
or foure tymes, then she lying very still on the blocke one of 
the executioners holding of her slitely with one of his handes, 
she endured two strokes of the other executioner with an 
axe, she making very small noyse or none at all, and not 
stirring any parte of her from the place where she lay." 

The "little dog" incident is also told. Poor Mary! 
Her heart's blood— 

"Lapped by a dog: Go think of it, in silence and alone 
And weigh against a grain of sand the glories of a Throne." 

Sir Francis Bacon spells idol, ' ' idole, ' ' double bound 
— "dowble bownde." 

Queen Elizabeth's letter is a half scolding one to 
James VI., hoping he will bear with her for molesting 
him so long with her 'skrating hand.' 

Lord Clive, the Conqueror of India (after he had 
failed in his attempt to commit suicide), invariably spelt 
"We"— "Wee." It was, however, the only wee thing 
about him. 

George Washington wrote to the Earl of Buchan on 
the principle which should guide the United States in 
his opinion— "to be little heard of in the great world 
of politics. ' ' 

Pitt, Burke, Fox and Sheridan were all represented 
by holographs ; Nelson and The Duke of Wellington by 
characteristic notes, and Disraeli and Gladstone by let- 
ters on literary topics. 

General Gordon (of Khartoum) speaks in the last 
leaf of his Soudan Diary, and tragic enough it is in tone. 

For a change let us briefly look at some of the Great 
Charters. They run as far back as that of Off a, King 
of the Mercians, A. D. 785, and in Latin. Many have 
the original seals attached. Some have dozens of sig- 
natures. The famous Magna Charta is represented by 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 353 

a collotype copy, but the original is preserved in the 
department. Pope's Bulls are quite common, includ- 
ing the one making Henry VIII. "Defender of the 
Faith." 

The Literary Autographs and other manuscripts fitly 
begin with William Shakespeare, collotype copy of orig- 
inal Mortgage (in Museum) being shown. The poet 
signed "W- Shakspe-." All the great names from 
Spenser's day to the present are represented, many 
authors by whole books, entirely in their own handwrit- 
ing. The only extant manuscript of an Elizabethan 
drama is "Believe as you List" by Massing er, except 
one of Ben Jonson's "Masques." If you list you may 
believe that Shakespeare's manuscript was like either 
of these. Burns is well represented by poetry and 
prose— fine penmanship, bold, clean and clear. Robert 
Browning has this to say of his own work : 

"I can have little doubt but that my writing has been, in 
the main, too. hard for many I should have been pleased to 
communicate with; but I never designedly tried to puzzle 
people, as some of my critics have supposed. On the other 
hand I never pretended to offer such literature as should 
be a substitute for a cigar or a game of dominos to an idle 
man." 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson was often a "poser" in more 
ways than one. The story is vouched for that he once 
put his legs on the table of an inn, and refused to take 
them down until his son said : ' ' Father, they are taking 
you for Longfellow." Then he whipped them down 
with "Anything but that!" Longfellow could never 
have been so rude and Alfred Tennyson might have 
been told that he wrote few if any poems better than 
Longfellow's best. Another time (well authenticated) 
Tennyson was walking with a friend, and pretended to 
be bored with people who stared at him. Opportunely 
a man came towards them and the poet braced himself 
(as he said) to stand the ordeal. He never got so much 



354 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

as a glance, and he sulked all day over it! Other in- 
stances could he given of his desire for notice, while 
all the time affecting to despise it. So here in his let- 
ter we have him in a natural role, complaining of hav- 
ing to wade through "printed proof-sheets of poems," 
with "letters for autographs" and being "penny-post 
maddened," also noticing "insolent letters— anony- 
mous" and "letters asking for explanations." All 
pose, Alfred dear ! You liked and craved the attention 
which was human enough, but you had to make your 
face while gulping it down.* 

Thomas Carlyle had a different story to tell, but, as 
always, in a manly way : 

* Books have been written on the vanity — and insanity of genius. 
Self-assertion at times becomes a duty, and is distinct from egotism, 
but even downright conceit has been a motive power that has brought 
many good results. It is hardly possible to imagine poor humanity 
doing good or great or pleasing things without looking somewhere for 
approbation, and my experience of life has been that those who affect 
most to despise fame, good opinion and advertisement, secretly pine for 
it, and will go great lengths to attain it. People of artistic tempera- 
ment particularly crave admiration, — ■ undoubted geniuses as well as 
mediocrities. They have enough interest in their work and love for it 
to sacrifice much to do their best while employed on it; but when the 
musician has finished his opera or Strathspey, the author his poem 
or essay, the painter his landscape or portrait and the sculptor his 
tablet or statue they each and all desire others to know their per- 
formances and to think well of them. The goodwife of the house 
likes to show off her fine china-closet, or her best parlor; the farmer 
his stock and his crops, and the tradesman his shop or store. Even 
those who denounce all this (or pretend to do so) wish to be praised 
for their humility, or their greatness in despising such follies and 
foibles ; and in my opinion the " holier-than-thou " type of " superior 
person " is not any more offensive than the brand of humanity that 
affects apathy when it has really moved heaven and earth to secure a 
compliment. Some one has said self-depreciation is " conceit gan- 
grened and driven inward," and Talleyrand declared " unbounded mod- 
esty is nothing more than unassured vanity." There would be no objec- 
tion to Tennyson having a good opinion of himself — he was a great 
poet and a good man even if he pronounced his Bugle Song to be " the 
grandest lyric utterance the world has ever produced " — but why, in 
heaven's name, try to make believe that the did not care for praise, 
when his actions to evoke it often bordered on the ridiculous! 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 



355 



"I have given up the notion of hawking my little manu- 
script book [it was Sartor Resartus] about any farther: for a 
long time it has lain quiet in its drawer, waiting for a better 
day." 

John Dry den had a similar tale to give a hundred 
and fifty years earlier : 

"If I durst I would plead a little merit and some hazards 
of my life . . . but I only think I merit not to starve. . . . 
Be pleased to look on me with an eye of compassion; some 
small employment would render my condition easy." 

Charles Lamb gave a recipe for cooking frogs : ' ' The 
nicest little rabbity things you ever tasted. ' ' 
Laurence Sterne, to a friend: 

"I have brought your name into my work . . . where 
it will remain when you and I are gone forever. ' ' 

John Milton's Bible is shown with his family register 
on the fly-leaf. 

No end to the rarest treasures. Gray's "Elegy" en- 
tire; Cowper's "John Gilpin"; Bryon's "Childe Har- 
old"— first and second cantos; Scott's "Kenil worth"; 
George Eliot's "Adam Bede" and lots of other gems 
in the handwriting of the authors throughout. Of for- 
eigners, specimens of every name in literature, art and 
science; of men of action as well as men of thought. 
Montaigne's manuscript received more than a passing 
glance, as I recalled that he was a pupil of Scotland's 
great Latin scholar, George Buchanan. 

Then the ancient Greek and Latin manuscripts, on 
papyri, vellum, parchment, wax and paper. Some go 
back to the third century B. C— fished out of the car- 
tonnage of a mummy-case. One of the earliest manu- 
scripts of any portion of the Bible at present known to 
be in existence was found in Egypt as recently as 1892. 
It is the Psalter and is believed to be of late third or 
early fourth century date. The earliest complete copy 



356 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

of the Bible in Greek is the "Codex Alexandrinus" in 
the British Museum. This volume also contains the 
Epistles of St. Clement of Eome. The period is given 
as middle of fifth century. Older copies, but incom- 
plete, are: (1) "Codex Vaticanus" in the Vatican Li- 
brary at Eome, and (2) "Codex Sinaiticus" in the Im- 
perial Library at St. Petersburg, both manuscripts 
assigned to the fourth century. Photographs of the 
two last named are in the case with the " Codex Alex- 
andrinus" for convenient comparison. 

Among Baronial Seals I noticed that of Sir John de 
la Hay, Knt. (A. D., 1281), whose family vault I saw in 
Elgin Cathedral. Was also interested in the " Lan- 
caster s," particularly the seal of "John Plantagenet, 
of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, Seneschal of England, 
1363." 

The Illuminated Manuscripts, the rare and fine Bind- 
ings, and the priceless First Editions all appealed to 
me, but where they are counted by hundreds it is im- 
possible to select for particularization. There was such 
a surfeit of rarity, antiquity, value and magnificence 
that I feel now like saying to my readers what Charles 
II. , when a prince, said to the Marquess of Newcastle 
in regard to physic, as I saw in the royal handwriting : 

"Too much doth alwaies make me worse, and I think it will 
do the like with you." 



Yes, yes- 



; Enough's enough— of corn or chaff, 
Of praise or of petitions;" 



And to round out the stanza— 



Of manuscript or autograph 
Or books in rare editions ! 



IN SHAKESPEARE'S LAND, INCLUDING AN 
INTERVIEW WITH MARIE CORELLI. 

kinD ReAdEr, whosoE'mvi jOU be, — 
coreIH's seLF, or sidNEy LEE 
OR one oF MoeE CONiraetED View: 
TheRE iS a cYp7iER Tiere iOR you/ 

(A Letter to the Editors of the Lancaster (Pa.) Intelligencer.) 

Statford-on-Avon, Nov. 15, 1902. 
Dear Sirs : At last in my travels I have found a place 
that has exceeded my expectations. It is here— Strat- 
ford-on- Avon— for centuries, as all your readers know, 
associated with the name of William Shakespeare. Most 
places are overwritten, and prove correspondingly dis- 
appointing, but much as I have read of Shakespeare's 
birthplace the half has not been told regarding it and 
its wealth of romance and historic lore. I have only 
been able to give a few days to the town, but in that 
short time I feel that I have been very near to William 
Shakespeare. There were no jars such as I experi- 
enced at Birmingham, in the Shakespeare library there. 
After satisfying myself as to what was to be seen— and 
I thought the collection poor— I asked one of the at- 
tendants if there were any Shakespearean relics in the 
room. "Yes, " he said promptly and confidently, 
"there's one of Shakespeare's letters!" "What do 
you mean?" I asked; and he took me to a case, and 
showed me a copy of a letter written by David Garrick 
in regard to some celebrations in honor of the poet! 
That young man may go to the colonies, and, having 
been in the Shakespeare branch of the Birmingham 
library, he will no doubt speak of Shakespeare "with 
authority, ' ' and may convince some as ignorant as him- 
self that he has seen and handled a genuine Shakes- 

357 



358 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

peare letter; but, all the same, I think it is lucky for 
him now that Mr. Timmins died the other day. One 
naturally wonders by what process such assistants are 
selected. 

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when I 
arrived at Stratford-on-Avon. While enjoying my 
supper at the "Fountain Inn" the curfew bell rang out 
its warning that it was time "for a' the bairns to be in 
bed. ' ' I listened to the notes with a strange sensation, 
for I knew that the same metallic sound had been heard 
by Shakespeare himself many a time, and the same bell 
had been tolled fifty-two times on April 23d, 1616, in 
proclaiming the immortal poet's requiem. At once I 
seemed to be wafted back to the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries, and this feeling did not desert me un- 
til I said farewell to the sweet banks of the gentle 
Avon. 

Stratford is not a big town. I should guess it to 
have between eight and ten thousand people. It has 
some modern houses, but the old and quaint still hap- 
pily predominate. I hope this may be so for ever. It 
is the one town in England that should not change, and 
Stratfordians should do the utmost in their power to 
preserve, conserve and reserve everything pertaining 
to their poet. He is their most valuable asset, as they 
will quickly find out if Bacon should ever dethrone him. 

The most natural place to seek first is the birthplace, 
situated on the north of Henley street. It is in an ex- 
cellent state of preservation, outside and in. The deed 
is in existence among the borough records showing that 
John Shakespeare, the poet's father, owned this house 
and it is believed that without a doubt he occupied it 
during the whole time of his residence in Stratford. 
Its history to the present time is as clear as anything 
could be. Unvarying tradition has pointed out the 
room where the poet was born, and common sense sug- 



IN SHAKESPEARE 's LAND. 359 

gests the exact spot. In this room there is little mate- 
rial change from Shakespeare's time. At one time no 
registers for visitors were kept, so strangers scribbled 
their autographs on the walls, and scratched them on 
the windows, with the result that every possible space 
is covered with names, including some very famous 
ones. 

I saw " Robert Browning" and the places where 
"Thackeray" and "Byron" had been. Many of the 
signatures of the most famous actors are to be found 
on the chimney jambs. Walter Scott left his autograph 
on a window pane, and so even did dour, taciturn Car- 
lyle. I was lucky enough to secure tracings of both. 
Mrs. Rose, the sympathetic and intelligent care-taker 
of the birthplace, also gave me a newly discovered 
couplet from the birthroom that is worth quoting : 

"In this poor place his spirit first drew breath 
"Who guards the English tongue from fear of death ! ' ' 

It is not known who is the author, but they are worthy 
of a noted name. There are some pieces of old furni- 
ture in the house, and the Stratford portrait of the poet 
that closely resembles the bust in the church over his 
grave. There is also in this building a room set apart 
as a museum that contains many most interesting relics. 
Here is the letter that Quiney wrote to Shakespeare, 
"touching" him for a temporary loan, and so elo- 
quently solicited that I am quite sure the poet ac- 
quiesced. A facsimile of the letter is generally shown, 
as the original is too precious to be handled, and is kept 
in the secretary's safe. Shakespeare's sword is also in 
this room and his signet ring, with the letters W. S. on 
it. The ring looks unusually large, but if tried on the 
forefinger, where he wore it, one can see that it is only 
normal size. Here also are a fair collection of copies 
of the original quartos and folios and many paintings 



360 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and engravings and books illustrating the poet's life 
and works. When one reads the tributes paid to 
Shakespeare by men who knew him well, and so cer- 
tified him, as it were, in his first collected edition, any 
doubt as to his real authorship vanishes, unless indeed, 
all who laud him were in the plot to deceive mankind. 
I noticed in a case "Shakespeare's staff," of malacca, 
about five feet six inches in length and evidently used 
as an alpenstock. There were MSS. of Garrick and 
Washington Irving also in this room. No lights are 
allowed in the birthplace, and it is heated by steam 
pipes from the custodian's house. Mr. Carnegie re- 
cently gave Stratford a public library, and learning 
the other day that some cottages stood near the birth- 
place that were a menace to it and to some exent spoiled 
the view of it he promptly ordered them purchased. 
They will be pulled down and the ground will be kept 
sacred to the birthplace for all coming time. This was 
a welcome and universally praised gift, some going as 
far as to say that Mr. Carnegie may be remembered as 
the preserver of Shakespeare 's birthplace long after he 
has been forgotten as a founder of libraries. My hope 
is that he may supplement this by providing a fund 
for systematic research in and around Stratford to dis- 
cover some more Shakespearean relics and perhaps 
some of his manuscripts. This is not a dream on my 
part, but a conviction born of long meditation and 
some actual experience. Since I reached Stratford I 
have heard of an ignorant land steward who recently 
ordered over two tons of Lucy papers destroyed, some 
of them dating back to Shakespeare's time. A gentle- 
man of Stratford would have given £2,000 for the 
privilege of selecting what he wanted. It seems to me 
this fire-eating clown's name is worthy of being brack- 
etted with the Eev. Fussy Gastrell, who destroyed 
Shakespeare's mulberry tree and razed his old house 



IN SHAKESPEAKE 's LAND. 361 

at New Place. I hope the parson is still in purgatory 
and may remain there until we find something more 
definite and tangible about Shakespeare as an author, 
since Gastrell unquestionably "put back the clock" by 
his iconoclastic antics. 

There are in Stratford to-day hundreds of old houses 
that were well known to Shakespeare, and many of them 
he doubtless visited. Have the garrets and closets of all 
of them been thoroughly explored ! I doubt it. Have all 
the old mansions in the neighborhood been ransacked? I 
am quite sure it is not so! When at Dumfries I had 
occasion to look up the home of a gentleman who was a 
friend of Burns, and where Burns often visited. It 
occurred to me that relics of the poet might be there, 
and I was the more convinced of this when I was ush- 
ered into the library, in the same condition almost as 
when Burns used to consult it. The first book I opened 
contained an inscription by him, unpublished and un- 
known! The heir-at-law told me she had seen Burns 
MSS. among the family papers and still had them! 
Here was enough to found a new edition of Burns' 
works, discovered by a stranger three thousand miles 
from home and right under the nose of the premier 
Burns club of the world, when every Scotchman is hun- 
gering and thirsting for the slightest scrap of new mat- 
ter from the poet or relating to him! I firmly believe 
this could be duplicated with Shakespeare, not so eas- 
ily, of course, because he is two hundred years farther 
off ; but with ability and patience and money something 
could be brought to light; and even two genuine lines, 
yes two real Shakespearean words would justify two 
years devotion to such a search. 

If Shakespeare wrote anything at all, he certainly 
wrote many of his plays here. He resided at New Place 
the last years of his life, and his pen was not idle. Only 
a very small part of the house that adjoined Shakes- 



362 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

peare 's is now standing, but the foundations of Shakes- 
peare 's home are plainly to be seen, and the bay window 
pointed out which tradition asserts lighted the poet's 
study. There is also in use to-day the well that he used, 
and I had a refreshing draught from it, thinking as I 
quaffed it "honest water, that never left man in the 
mire!" William evidently did not confine himself to 
Adam's ale, however, as I saw in my travels more than 
one beer mug that he was said to have used. The gardens 
at New Place are supposed to be much as they were in 
his time. Over the street is the chapel of The Guild of 
the Holy Cross, that looks just as it did when he was 
living and saw it every day. You can sit in his garden 
and turn your eyes on many objects that were well 
known to the poet. Here it seems to me is where one 
comes positively very near to the living man. In this 
garden the "Tempest" was elaborated if not born, and, 
in fact, his best works, extending over his closing years, 
are all associated with this place. It was the best prop- 
erty in the town in his day, and he was no doubt envied 
and much misunderstood as he "idled away his time" 
at home. The "Falcon Inn" is over the street on an- 
other corner, and the shuffle board of this hostelrie is 
shown with the remark that Shakespeare used it when 
he indulged in a game. About a minute's walk from 
New Place is King Edward's school and the Guildhall. 
This was the school Shakespeare attended, and it is 
still used as a school. The place is pointed out where 
he sat, and a desk such as he used is preserved. I was 
also shown a little garret where bad boys were put as 
punishment in his day. It is a cold, cheerless-looking 
school, and I do not think is likely to produce another 
Shakespeare. The schoolmaster wears a funereal 
gown, and I can hardly imagine that much pleasure 
goes with the study there. The Guild hall is in the same 
building on the ground floor nearest the street. This 



IN SHAKESPEAEE 's LAND. 363 

was the place where Shakespeare first saw a play. 
Strolling actors were accustomed to visit Stratford, 
and John Shakespeare, when high baliff, was an 
especial patron of the players, and he certainly took 
his lad William with him occasionally. The place is 
shown where the rude stage was erected, even the clamp 
holes being still visible. 

The next most interesting memorial of Shakespeare 
is a little bit out of town, but should not be missed at 
almost any sacrifice. This is the Ann Hathaway Cot- 
tage at Shottery. It is a pleasant walk of a mile across 
the fields, the very route that William took many a 
time when he visited his rustic sweetheart. The house 
is in splendid condition, and is still cared for by a rela- 
tive of Ann Hathaway 's, Baker by name. I could not 
help but think, when the nice Quaker-looking lassie 
showed me around the rooms and described everything 
to me so carefully, that she must closely resemble her 
famous kinswoman at her age. You are shown the fire- 
place, with the wide chimney and the wooden bench 
beside it, where the poet and his sweetheart did their 
courting. It is very easy to believe amidst the surround- 
ings, for everything is there almost as in that famous 
day — bacon closet, dresser, trencher, linen chests, frame 
for rosin stick as torch, stone floor, low ceiling, big oak 
beams, carved panelling and doors. Upstairs is Ann 
Hathaway 's bed— too rickety now for any purpose ex- 
cept to look at— but a beauty in its day. On it may be 
seen some specimens of needlework of the period, and 
a portion of the straw-plaited mattress, such as in use 
at that time. Even the window glass is much of it of 
Shakespeare's era— a dingy yellow, once seen, easily 
distinguished. Here too is the primitive well, with 
bucket, and once more we drink from where the poet 
drank "many a time and oft." 

It has been most delightful weather all the time I 



364 HEBE AND THEBE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

have been here— they call it "St. Martin's summer"— 
and no one could have seen the town and its surround- 
ings to better advantage. On the way from Shottery 
I pulled scarlet hips and black-berries that were all 
along the pathway in abundance, while in Shakes- 
peare's garden at New Place the bright red holly 
berries were in every corner in profusion. 

The most sacred Shakespearean spot of all is, of 
course, his grave, which is beautifully housed in as 
pretty a church as I ever saw, a fit shrine for such a 
precious legacy. This is the Parish church, otherwise 
known as the Church of the Holy Trinity. It is famil- 
iar to everybody from the photographs of it so plentiful 
and so deservedly popular. As you enter the door of 
the sacred edifice you know positively that Shakespeare 
has done the same over and over again. It is even the 
old door used in his day, with the turban-headed brass 
knocker that if touched by any fugitive would at once 
give him the full protection of the sanctuary. Near 
the entrance are shown the parish registers, with leaves 
open at the entry of Shakespeare's birth and death. 
Nearby is a fine specimen of a chained Bible. But you 
are impatient to see the poet's grave, and the door- 
keeper not having the time to go with you, simply 
directs you to the chancel, where by aid of the church 
guide book you have no difficulty in threading your 
way. In a few minutes you are before the altar rails, 
where a notice says : ' ' Thus far and no farther. ' ' At 
your left-hand side, next the wall, sleeps Ann Hatha- 
way, the poet's wife, and next to her is the immortal 
bard himself. Over his remains is the plain, rude 
stone, with the world-known curse : 

' ' Good friend, for Jesus ' sake f orbeare 
To dig the dust encloased heare; 
Blest be ye man yt spares these stones, 
And curst be he yt moves my bones. ' ' 



in Shakespeare's land. 365 

In spite of the warning sign I pushed aside the altar 
rail and walked right on to the poet's grave verifying 
every word of the inscription and noting that the lines 
had been recut. The stone seemed so frail that I was 
afraid I would break it and tumble through. Shakes- 
peare smiled good-naturedly at me from his bust above, 
set in the wall opposite his grave. There was not a 
sound for the moment. I was all alone. By and by, 
I heard the strains of the violin or 'cello, and I listened 
as the notes crept up the aisle and floated around me 
in the chancel. It seemed a harmonious accompani- 
ment to such a solemn occasion. "That strain again! 
It had a dying fall ! O, it came o 'er my ear like the 
sweet smell of violets!" It took a good tug to pull 
myself back into the work-a-day world, and a long time 
before I said my final farewell. 

Shakespeare's social standing is proved to have been 
high by his grave's position in the chancel of the 
church. All his family and his family connections are 
buried near him. There are many theories about the 
rhymed inscription. My idea is that he had expressed 
a wish not to be disturbed, and some one later on had 
the stanza cut on his grave stone. I believe a similar 
copy has been found prior to Shakespeare's time, so it 
is probably a stock epitaph, like "Affliction sore long 
time she bore," etc. Then, I think the bust is a fair 
likeness of him, and was cut from the Stratford por- 
trait and possibly a death-mask, with the approval of 
his widow and children. Gerard Jansen, of Amster- 
dam, a professional tomb-maker, made it in 1623, seven 
years after the poet's death. The inscription under 
the bust is no doubt from the pen of his son-in-law, Dr. 
John Hall, and makes direct reference, and in most ex- 
travagant terms, to Shakespeare as a poet. They did 
not lose much time in Stratford in vouching for their 
townsman as a great writer, and London soon followed 
25 



366 HEEE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

with its endorsement. The vexing, perplexing thing 
abont him is the lack of any scrap of his writings in 
the original manuscript. We have whole books by Ben 
Jonson and Massinger, two of his contemporaries, in 
their own handwriting, and Bacon's script is quite com- 
mon. Even the few signatures of Shakespeare are dis- 
appointing, not two of them being fairly alike, and in 
one signed on a mortgage he contents himself by ab- 
breviating to "Wm. Shakspe." But in spite of this 
loss, we know a great deal of positive fact about the 
bard, and it is all in his favor. Three new books have 
just been published on the Shakespeare mystery, and 
all are by lawyers, by judges, in fact. Judge Webb, 
of Ireland, is against Shakespeare ; Judge Willis is for 
him and I do not know how Lord Penzance, the third 
writer, stands, as so far I have been unable to see his 
book. A trip through Shakespeare 's country helps one 
better to understand the controversy, and, so far as I 
am concerned, the effect has been to strengthen my 
belief in Shakespeare's authorship of Shakespeare's 
plays and poems. 

I have not time to speak of other interesting places, 
Mary Arden's cottage, Judith Shakespeare's home and 
Dr. John Hall's residence, and many other houses asso- 
ciated with the poet. To Americans the Red Horse inn 
is like a second home, with its associations of Washing- 
ton Irving, William Winter, and nearly every distin- 
guished American that has visited this country. While 
I was there it was announced that Mary Anderson was 
coming for a short stay on the following Saturday. 
The Shakespeare hotel is also justly famous and has 
entertained the world's best. Its rooms are named 
after the Shakespearean plays. In the church there is 
an American window of fine stained glass, showing the 
seven ages of man from Biblical characters, the gift of 
American visitors. The Memorial Fountain presented 



in Shakespeare's land. 367 

by George W. Childs, of Philadelphia, is an ornament 
to the town, and with its clock and fountain very use- 
ful, too. No American should miss seeing the Harvard 
house, which was once the home of the mother of John 
Harvard, founder of Harvard university. It is now 
used as an auctioneer's office, but some day may be 
bought and preserved as an American shrine. 

The present living attraction of Stratford is Miss 
Marie Corelli, the novelist, who makes her home there, 
at Mason Croft. I had tha pleasure of spending an 
evening with her, and shall never forget the splendid 
time I had. She is good-looking, amiable and brilliant 
in conversation, as dainty and fine as a rich Cloissone 
vase, but also strong when strength is needed. T. P. 
O'Connor dubbed her "Dresden china," and you know 
that nearly all the critics pretend to hate her. But she 
has beaten them all, and is now at the top of the tree, 
in spite of all her enemies. She is passionately fond 
of Stratford, and has done a great deal of good to it by 
bringing the most noted musicians, singers, actors and 
actresses to the town and giving the people a chance to 
see and hear them. Paderewski is to be her guest this 
week, and the De Eeszkes later on, and so she is con- 
tinually providing a host of good things for her neigh- 
bors. I told her I hoped she would give the Americans 
a chance to see and hear her soon, but she did not give 
me much encouragement. Everything at home is so 
comfortable, and she is so happy here, she hates to go 
away, even for her summer holiday. Still I believe 
she will think it over and if she should cross the Atlan- 
tic and give us a few of her charming lectures, I am 
sure she will not lack for audiences nor for big fat fees. 

We talked on many topics. Miss Vyver, who was 
also present, hardly got a chance to slip in a word, but 
she was too good-natured to resent her enforced silence. 
Miss Corelli surprised me most by her commercial 



>J 



368 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

knowledge. The way, for instance, she handled the 
topic of "silk" would have discounted an expert in 
Wanamaker's store. She was lamenting the decay of 
silk manufacture in England, and thought it would not 
only be good philanthropy but good business for some 
rich man to start up a few mills, to make silk on the old- 
style plan,— provided they produced the old-fash- 
ioned, rich, real silk now so rare, but once common 
enough in Britain. To illustrate her remarks she 
showed me some fine specimens of silk cloth, and dis- 
canted on the weave, the luster and the varied excel- 
lences with such enthusiasm and convincing language 
that had she been a seller the most indifferent buyer 
even in a dull season would have succumbed with a big 
order. If she should ever think of starting an estab- 
lishment for the manufacture of silk, after the style of 
The Roycrofters in books and furniture, she can easily 
dispose of the output herself with little waste of time. 
And her tip is worth the serious consideration of any 
one looking for an artistic industrial business. 

Naturally I was curious to know which of her own 
books she preferred, and succeeded in finding out that 
' ' Ardath ' ' was her first choice, and next to that ' ' Barab- 
bas." She talked freely of her writings and in a dig- 
nified yet modest strain. It is not so well known— in 
America at least— that she was trained for a musical 
career, and has several sweet compositions to her credit. 
She has also written a considerable amount of poetry 
—of the Byron-Shelley-Keats brand, if any one should 
ask the kind of it. She makes the first draft of her nov- 
els in pencil, recopying in ink. Her handwriting is 
very beautiful,— strong, clear and dignified. Before I 
left she very graciously presented me with a handsome 
copy of one of her books and at my request autographed 
it, and added a characteristic inscription. 

It is quite true that she is much favored by royalty, 



IN SHAKESPEAKE 'S LAND. 369 

as I had ample proof of it myself in what I saw. She 
also enjoys the friendship of all the best writers of the 
day. Amongst her souvenirs I was especially inter- 
ested in Sir Walter Scott's walking stick, that came to 
her from her stepfather, Dr. Charles Mackay. I hope 
she may be spared long, to charm and cheer us with her 
entertaining and instructive pen, and I am happy to say 
she looks as if she had many decades yet before her. 
My visit to her was a delightful ending to my Shakes- 
pearean tour, and I shall always cherish with pleasure 
the memory of her beautiful personality, her brilliant 
conversation, and the cosy, comfortable atmosphere of 
her classic surroundings. 



A BIT 0' TWEED. 

To let such twill and tweel escape 

I'm sure I'm very loth, 
And yet my coat I have to shape 

According to the cloth. 

To see my cousin, Mrs. Wilson, I paid a visit to 
Kingledores, in Peebleshire, and this gave me part of 
three days in Tweedside. On my way from Edinburgh 
I passed through a greater city than London, for al- 
though it is big, Biggar is always Biggar! The joke 
reminds me of another Scotch one. "Motherwell!" 
the Eailway Porter announces, and a smart Cockney 
pokes his head out of a train window and jeeringly 
asks : ' ' Father well, too 1 " " Ow, ay, ' ' says the ready 
Scotty, "and if you go on a little far'rer you'll find 
Bothwell." I left the train at Broughton, and soon 
reached the district referred to by Saunders Tait, the 
satirist of Burns: 

"Powmood, Sten-up and Kingledores, 
Craik and Logan, fine farm stores, 
The flocks go there in hunder scores 

Among the scrogs 
At spenning time there's nought but roars 
0' herds and dogs." 

Tait was often at the heels of Burns, and probably 
wandered up Tweedside because the greater bard had 
been there before him. I hope Mr. David Lowe will 
soon give us his study of Tait, who figures so strongly 
in Henley's "Burns." At the Mitchell library, Glas- 
gow, I had the pleasure of going through Tait's rare 
bookie. My destination happened to be near "Willie 
Wastles's Stane," and the "Logan Watter" that is 
mentioned in the "Linkumdoddy" song. The Laird o' 

370 



A BIT O' TWEED. 371 

Kingledores (Wm. Stewart, Esq.) has some beautiful 
bits of scenery on his estate, and, as I wrote him on 
leaving : 

Sir Mitchell Thompson weel may praise 

Potarvan and Polmood 
But Br.oomyknowe and Hopehead's braes 

Are ilka bit as good. 
The Broad Law Hill may nae be yours 

But what tho' that should be 
Unless the mist its tap obscures 

It 's always yours to see ! 

The valley was in the hands of the navvies engaged 
at the Talla water-works and such disgraceful drunk- 
enness as I witnessed on the Saturday night I was there 
exceeded anything in that line I had ever seen. The 
workmen were the riddlings of humanity, the mob and 
scum and dregs of city and country, working at good 
wages, but evidently for no other motive than to spend 
their money on whiskey. Tragedies average about one 
a week, and that night was no exception. A man in a 
drunken stupor had rolled his legs into a blazing fire 
and before he was awake to the situation they were 
hopelessly burned. I saw him shipped to the hospital 
at Edinburgh, and read that he succumbed under the 
surgeon's knife. He was quite conscious when I inter- 
viewed him after the accident and absolutely indiffer- 
ent as to the outcome. Such a carnival of riot and 
crime as almost nightly enacted there by the Talla 
lads made a woful contrast to the atmosphere of "the 
braw, braw lads o' Galla Water," whose exquisite air 
is as fine as anything in Scottish song.* 

* To Edinburgh Water Works Committee. 
As Scotia's Paraphraser sings — 

Too true a man to fleech and flatter: 
Can troubled and polluted springs 
Produce a stream of purest watter? 

Waes, waes me! 



372 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

By the merest chance J discovered that Rev. W. S. 
Crockett, the learned minister of Tweedsmuir, resided 
in the neighborhood, and on Sunday afternoon paid him 
a visit. He is an authority on Border literature and the 
country of Walter Scott, also the author of a popular 
anthology, "The Minstrelsy of the Merse." Mr. 
Crockett has a fine library of Doric poetry, and paid 
me the high compliment of showing references to me 
in quite a number of his books. He is a poet himself, 
and in such congenial surroundings it was easy and 
pleasing to "drop into verse" and give him the off- 
hand autograph which I here record : 

On such a lovely day indeed, 

Minstrel of the Merse, 
Who eonld not by the banks of Tweed 

At least indite one verse ? 
Let this poor stanza stand for me 

To tell to far and near 
That from my hame across the sea 

On this day I was here ! 
October 12, 1902. 

Then how can sic a worthless gang 

That nichtly ramp upon the batter 
Dee ony less than fyle for lang 

The fountain heid o' Talla Watter? 

Waes, waes me! 

At Linkumdoddie Burns was deaved 

By Willie Wastle's spouse's clatter 
But shocked he wad hae been — an grieved 

At present life by Talla Watter. 

Waes, waes me! 

Ah, " Galla Watter " sang is sweet 

But I felt mad as ony hatter 
And sad enough in troth to greet 

To see the sichts by Talla Watter. 

Waes, waes me! 

It's bonny by the side o' Tweed 

But O, they made my fancies scatter, 

If nae indeed my heart to bleed, 
The drunken lads o' Talla Watter! 

Waes, waes me! 



IN BELFAST TOWN. 

"Pro tanto quid retribuamus" — City Motto. 
" For all the good that I enjoyed 
Shall I make no return ? — " 
The pen that could be so decoy'd 
Contemptuously I'd spurn ! 

My raid into Ireland was made directly from Lon- 
don, via steamer from Fleetwood to Belfast. It was 
a swift rnn on the rails, and I came near being left at 
Kugby, where the express was scheduled to wait a few 
minutes. I had just sauntered out to a news-stand 
when my train started, and only a strenuous foot-ball 
rush enabled me to overtake it. On the way from 
Euston station, I had the company of a railroad man 
back from volunteer service in South Africa, and he 
was full of his adventures among the Boers. He also 
gave me a good account of the great railway shops at 
Crewe that put even our Pennsylvania Altoona in the 
shade. The trip across the Irish Channel was so pleas- 
ant that I slept like a top and at seven o'clock next 
morning was being whisked through the streets of Bel- 
fast at a lively pace,— enjoying my first experience of 
a jaunting-car. My good friend and kind host, Mr. 
Dewar,* expected me, and we were together until I left 
about a week later. The time from London to Belfast 
is about twelve hours, half on land and half on water. 
On the steamer I made the acquaintance of another 
young man who had been in the Transvaal, and strange 
to say he had often visited my relations, the Cooksleys, 
there, and had been entertained by them at their home 
in the Splonken. Probably in the whole British Isles 
at that time he was the only man who had penetrated 
so far into the vaal, and with my usual luck I had 

* See page 64. 

373 



374 HEBE AND THEBE IN TWO HEMISPHEBES. 

turned him up to get most interesting news of my 
friends ! 

Belfast is not rich in authentic history, jumping from 
660 to 1660 A. D. almost at a bound. The "plantation 
of Ulster" with the Scots driven from their own land 
by religious persecutions gave the first stimulus to the 
district, and to-day Belfast, the most progressive city 
in Ireland, is also the most Scotch— but that may only 
be a coincidence. The town is situated on Belfast 
Lough, an estuary of the sea, twelve miles long and 
five miles wide at its mouth, gradually decreasing 
towards Belfast, where its waters are joined by the 
River Lagan (the "Beedy Lego" of Ossian). 

The port and harbor of Belfast make a second Clyde, 
with sailing ships, steamers, ferry boats, docks, sheds, 
offices and warehouses in every direction. The ship- 
building, boiler-making and engineering works of Bel- 
fast are famous all over the world, the gigantic "White 
Star" Liners having all been made in the Harland- 
Wolff yards there. 

In linen, Belfast furnishes the best manufactured, 
from the daintiest cambric handkerchief to the finest 
damask table-cloths. The linen trade is the oldest and 
principal industry of Ireland with its headquarters 
in Belfast. The city has also the largest ropework in 
the world. Its woolen mills are huge concerns. The 
vulcanite asphalt and roofing factory is assuming mam- 
moth proportions. The great Irish Distillery covers 
twenty-five acres, and the various whiskey ware- 
houses and establishments hold and turn out oceans of 
liquor annually. Carrie Nation would be satisfied with 
the aerated water establishments, and doubtless has 
sampled Belfast ginger ale, as it is well known in the 
United States. There are over a score of concerns, 
each doing a big domestic and foreign business. The 
provision curing plants send Irish ham and bacon 



IN BELFAST TOWN. 375 

to the uttermost ends of the earth. Marcus Ward and 
Co.'s paper, printing and lithography have given their 
Koyal Ulster Works a world-wide reputation. 

Mr. Kilpatrick's photographic establishment will 
compare favorably with the best studios in the British 
Isles. A walk through his gallery among his beautiful 
specimens will explain why he has often to take a trip 
to London with his camera and his experts to get a 
special lawn-party, or make a particular portrait. He 
has been acknowledged and patronized by Royalty on 
many occasions, and some rare historical-political pic- 
tures have been taken by him. Besides being an artist 
Mr. Kilpatrick is a wit of high degree, and some of his 
rare stories and sayings were equal to the best I heard 
in Ireland. 

One evening I was introduced to a gentleman who 
made a clever political speech and promised to give 
him a call next day, which I did at his office. He is a 
wholesale druggist, and among his boxes and cartons 
and phials and bottles we had our chat. A casual re- 
mark developed a literary talk that was as surprising 
to me as it was refreshing, and in the discussion my 
modest and friendly opponent showed an exactness and 
appositeness of quotation that made his conversation 
brilliant. I could then understand something of the 
power that had made Sir James H. Haslett the Member 
of Parliament for North Belfast, and enabled him to 
win the sword and spurs of Knighthood. If any of 
my readers should think of tackling Sir James they had 
better first brush up their Byron ! 

Belfast is kept pleasantly to the front in the United 
States by The Royal Ulster Yacht Club, under whose 
auspices Sir Thomas Lipton has made his three plucky 
attempts to capture the "America's Cup," which is 
undoubtedly the blue ribbon sporting trophy of the 
world. Perhaps America's failure to raise a little 



376 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

more wind for the competing boats suggested to "Sir 
Occo" Davidson of Belfast the advisability of introduc- 
ing his wonderful fans to the States ! Anyhow, he has 
reversed the general Syndicate coup by selling to an 
American Company the right to manufacture his fans 
and pumps which have hitherto been debarred from the 
States by the high protective tariff. In New York City 
last July I had the pleasure of witnessing a display of 
what Mr. Davidson's machines can do under the direct 
demonstration of the inventor. He has accomplished 
results that text book theorists have declared impossible, 
and in ventilating and irrigation alone his reward 
should be as big as his inventions are marvellous. 

Of special interest to me was the Tobacco factory of 
Gallaher, Ltd. I had made the acquaintance of Mr. 
Gallaher in the States, and, while I knew his concern 
was a big one, was not prepared to see such a gigantic 
factory. Mr. Thomas Gallaher, the founder and head 
of the firm, has been pegging away at tobacco for over 
forty years. From a small beginning at Londonderry 
he has now the biggest independent tobacco business in 
the world. His factory and warehouse buildings cover 
a large square, and are new and up-to-date in every 
department, much of the machinery in use being of his 
own special design and invention. His smoke-stacks 
consume their own smoke. Think of a boon like that 
for Pittsburg or Cincinnati! The value of the stock 
in the Gallaher plant is enormous, half a million dol- 
lars ' worth of tobacco often being in the hydraulic 
presses at one time. His specialties are Irish Eoll and 
Flake, but all kinds of smoking and chewing tobacco 
are manufactured, also snuff and cigarettes. The Gal- 
laher counting rooms look like fine banking offices. All 
the male and female help employed are well cared for, 
every comfort being provided and midday meals served 
at bare cost. The pleasant relations between the firm 



IN BELFAST TOWN. 377 

and employees make the establishment resemble a large 
family rather than a cold, hard business proposition. 
I met some who have been in Mr. Gallaher's service 
since he started. One old man declared he did not see 
how it had all been accomplished, but he was sure he 
would not accept the factory, and undertake to keep it 
running, as a free gift. Mr. Gallaher buys his raw 
materials direct, and is as well known to the planters 
and growers of America as he is to the commercial men 
of his own city. He has large warehouses and branch 
establishments in London, Liverpool, Dublin and many 
other places. For all his successes and honors the 
" Tobacco King" is a most democratic gentleman, and 
popular everywhere. He is interested in many other 
enterprises of local importance, and if he cared to enter 
public life could have almost any office he desired. At 
the St. Andrew's Banquet— an important annual event 
in Belfast— and where I had the honor of responding 
to a toast— Mr. Gallaher made one of the good speeches 
of the evening. There were baronets, knights and 
squires present, members of Parliament and deputy 
lieutenants, editors and other professional men in 
abundance, but none had a better ovation than ' ' Tom, ' ' 
as he is affectionately styled among his own people. 
He resides in a lovely home— " Ballygoland " near 
Greencastle, on the outskirts of the city, and to see him 
surrounded by his interesting family at "his ain fire- 
side" is to see him at his best. His career is a proof 
that there are chances for big commercial success in 
the old country as well as in the new, as he has made 
all his business himself, from the ground up. 

An institution of a different kind is The Queen's 
College, which gives tone to the town educationally, and 
under the able direction of Dr. Hamilton (who showed 
me many favors) is rapidly expanding, having now 
every requisite for worthy service. There are also sev- 
eral sectarian colleges or seminaries in Belfast. Of 



378 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

churches all denominations are well represented. The 
"State" church was called "The Church of Ireland," 
of which the city has about thirty places of worship. 
The Catholics have ten churches, Unitarians four, Bap- 
tists three and the Moravians, Quakers and Jews have 
their buildings. The Methodists have over thirty 
churches, but the Presbyterians even more. From this 
list the denominational temper of the community may 
be gleaned. 

I visited many shops and offices, finding trade good, 
with equipments and service equal to anything in Lon- 
don or Glasgow. The principal streets are wide, and 
show many fine buildings, including banks, clubs, hos- 
pitals, hotels, theatres, restaurants, halls, etc. High 
Street, Royal Avenue and Donegal Place will compare 
favorably with any city. The Botanic Gardens are a 
veritable fairy-land of grottoes, ferneries, fountains, 
caves, cataracts and tropical corners. Mr. McKee, the 
superintendent, had everything at its best in honor of 
the visit of the Lord-Lieutenant and his Lady, so I saw 
the gardens and hot-houses under most favorable con- 
ditions. The outskirts of the town are particularly 
beautiful. Ben Madighan or Cave Hill is not far off, 
and from its summit a wide territory can be seen, in- 
cluding the Scottish Coast. 

Belfast has had a phenomenal growth in the past 
hundred years— its population expanding from 13,000 
to about 270,000, and it is destined to continue to grow 
rapidly. Its industries are substantial, steady and di- 
versified; its location is advantageous; its climate is 
favorable; its people are energetic, enterprising and 
progressive ; and if Ireland had only a few more cities 
like Belfast judiciously placed throughout its provinces 
the Irish Question would soon settle itself and "the 
Emerald Isle" become what Nature intended it to be, 
one of the choicest gems on the breast of the North 
Atlantic Ocean. 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 

Craig Phadrick, Tom-na-hurich, Ord, 

Cathedral, Castle, Ness so clear, 

A balmy clime, true Celtic cheer, 
The best the Highlands can afford, 

Fine folk, fine speech and hearts sincere 

Are found by Clach-na-cuddin here! 

By many, Inverness is admitted to be unequalled for 
the beauty of its natural scenery, even eclipsing Edin- 
burgh in the opinion of some who are considered com- 
petent to judge. It has hills and mountains, woods and 
green fields, river, and canal and sea, with islands and 
bridges in bewildering profusion, all within its own 
limits or immediately at its doors. As a city it is very 
compact. The streets are well-paved and kept clean, 
but are rather narrow. It has a castle and a cathedral, 
beautiful churches in abundance, fine town hall, railway 
station, post offi.ce and military barracks, public library, 
museum and school of art, many good hotels, schools 
and academies, and for its size the finest shops, stores 
and warehouses in Scotland. 

The Eoyal Burgh of Inverness has a normal popula- 
tion of about 22,000; in the summer time increased to 
30,000 or more. It is noted for many swell affairs, but 
especially for the Northern Meeting, which yearly 
draws together all the wealth and beauty of the half of 
Scotland. To win prizes at the Inverness Highland 
Games is to gain the highest Scottish honors. To at- 
tend the Ball is to see Northern Society in its best dress. 

The townspeople are of a free and cordial nature, 
anxious to please the stranger within their gates and 
generally succeed in doing so. The merchants put 
themselves to any trouble to show their wares, and 

379 



380 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO -HEMISPHEEES. 

have such an assortment and variety of everything that 
no one need leave the city without an interesting High- 
land souvenir of some kind. Of course here as else- 
where the "fakir" flourishes, but he is generally an 
importation and not "a Clachnacudain boy."* 

Inverness is the place to secure almost any genuine 
curiosity or relic with true Gaelic flavor. It is the 
Capital of Clan Land, and the various Tartan Ware- 
houses and jewelry shops make a specialty of supply- 
ing correct family plaids and crests and badges. 
Scotch granite, amethysts and cairngorms enter largely 
into the ornamentation of the gold and silverware dis- 
played, the designs being Scotch enough and Hielan' 
enough to warm the heart and satisfy the taste of the 
most enthusiastic Caledonian. 

Historically Inverness is of great importance. All 
the early writers agree it was a market town before the 
days of Christ, having been founded by King Evenus 
II., who was the fourteenth King of Scotland. Modern 
historians concede it was the capital of the Picts and 
the seat of their government, Gaelic being the only 
language, and tartan the only dress at the Pictish Court. 
That it was a center of Druidism the nearby ruins of 
hill-forts and temples amply testify. There are also 



* In one curio-shop I saw an old fashioned plaid-brooch marked 
" £50," and asked why it cost so much. " It was Prince Charlie's " the 
merchant told me. " Where are the documents in proof ? " I asked, 
which so enraged the old man that he would hardly discuss the matter. 
He did condescend to say, however, that if his word could not be ac- 
cepted no affidavits would be of any value. When I said to him that 
to ask £50 for what was not intrinsically worth sixpence without posi- 
tive proof of its important associations was a poor way of doing 
business, he replied : " Many was the brooch of the same kind he had 
sold for the same figure " ; and 1 was afterwards informed that more 
than one American had paid their $250 and carried across the sea 
just such a pin in the belief that it was the very one that Prince Charlie 
had worn in his plaid on the battlefield of Culloden. 



IN AND ABOUT INVEENESS. 381 

traces of a Roman fort at Bona, in the neighborhood of 
the city.* 

Of course I visited the site of Macbeth 's Castle, 
where King Duncan was murdered. Shakespeare 
closely follows the Boethius version of this tragedy, as 
translated by Bellenden. Here is the exact text: 

"Makbeth, be persuasion of his wife, gaderit his friendis to 
ane counsall at Innernes, quhare King Duncane happinit to 
be for. the time. And because he fand sufficient opportunitie 
be support of Banquho and otheris his friendis, he slew King 
Duncane, the VII. yeir of his regne. ' ' 

Holinshed's Chronicle furnished the poet with fuller 
details. It is believed by most critics that Shakespeare 
had visited Inverness, reaching it by way of Forres 
from Aberdeen. Scottish historians differ as to the 
exact place of Duncan's death, but the final opinion 
seems to be that while he received the mortal stroke 
in his Inverness Castle he actually expired near Elgin, 
and, as I have said elsewhere, was for a time buried in 
the cathedral there. 

Many Scottish kings visited Inverness, but none held 
court there after Macbeth 's day, until James I., in 
1427. It was a "killing time" among the northern 
barons, who refused to show proper respect to their 
sovereign. The Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, held 
several courts in the castle in July, 1555. Mary Queen 
of Scots paid the town a visit in 1562. She at first was 
denied access to the Castle, and for his impudence the 
deputy governor had his head cut off and exposed on 

* When Christianity was being introduced to Scotland by St. Columba 
Brudeus II. was the Pictish monarch at Inverness. This was about A. 
D. 565. The Highland King closed his castle-gates in the face of the 
missionary, but the age of miracles was not yet gone, and Columba had 
only to make the sign of the cross before the entrance, and tap tbe 
doors lightly with his staff to see them fly open of their own ac- 
cord ! No wonder he made a good many converts among men of position, 
including the King. 
26 



382 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

one of the towers. In 1652 Oliver Cromwell (who, as 
old Affleck said, tanght kings they had ' ' liths ' ' in their 
necks like ordinary mortals) took possession of Inver- 
ness. He built a fort there which was named after him, 
and the ruins of it are easily traced to-day. Among 
other buildings the Clock Tower yet stands with his 
clock in it, still going and keeping excellent time ; just 
as Cromwell's parlor-clock does in the Philadelphia 
Library, where I have often seen it. The great Noll 
was "up to time" in more ways than one. 

I noted with high satisfaction the fine statue to him 
in front of the Houses of Parliament, London, and felt 
the "powers that be" had really complimented them- 
selves in — at last — giving his memory a recognition so 
conspicuous. The monument marks a prominent mile- 
stone on the world's political turnpike, and is a stand- 
ing sermon to the rulers of the earth who do not believe 
in the divine right of kings to be demonarchized when 
they too far forget their creators, supporters and sus- 
tainers. 

"Hey, Johnny Cope" was guardian of Inverness Cas- 
tle, 1745^6. He is still jeered down the corridors of 
time by the indifferent verses of a Scotch Ballad maker. 
He also figures as a "Can't-er" in— 

"Cope could not cope, nor Wade wade thro' the snow, 
Nor Hawley haul his cannons to the foe." 

Prince Charlie and his followers drove Cope's suc- 
cessor, Lord Loudon, with all his men into Ross-shire, 
and afterwards destroyed the Castle. 

The night before the battle of Culloden the Prince 
took up his quarters in Lady Drummuir's House, No. 
43 Church street, and the night after the battle the 
Duke of Cumberland occupied the same house and the 
same bed. 

Inverness is full of Jacobite associations, as may be 
expected. The saddest of all places to me was the 
burying-ground of the High Church. There are shown 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 383 

two grave-stones standing about twenty feet apart. 
One stone is high enough for a man to lean his knees 
against, and two depressions had been made in it for 
that purpose. The other stone was a little higher and 
had a V-shaped incision on top of it. After the battle 
of Culloden more than thirty Highland prisoners were 
one by one taken to the first stone and made kneel 
against it, while a Cumberland soldier with his musket 
resting on the second stone, blazed away at the poor 
unfortunate. It saved prison expenses, and was almost 
as swift an ending as the burning of the hutful of High- 
landers immediately after the battle. 

Accompanied by my father I visited the battle-field of 
Culloden, which is situated about five miles from In- 
verness and easily accessible by train or coach. The 
first thing that attracts notice is the "Cumberland 
stone," as hard in composition as the heart of the man 
it is named after. We climbed on top of the boulder 
and had a good general view of the Moor. The large 
Memorial Cairn and the clan stones marking the 
trenches where so many brave Highlanders are buried 
next claimed our attention. We took our lunch by the 
grassy mound where our own folks fought and fell, 
struggling for an unworthy prince and a worthless 
cause. But they did not see him as history has since 
revealed— I may say exposed— him to us, and they are 
entitled to all the honors that belong to truly valiant 
soldiers. Then "all was done that man could do, and 
all was done in vain."* 

The battle of Culloden, often called by the Jacobites 
"Druniossie Moor," was fought on the 16th of April, 

* To the pathos of the situation there was added for me on that 
bright September day no small item of romance. By force of circum- 
stances I had, only a few days previously, been privileged to meet my 
father! In the government service and away from home he did not 
retire from duty until I had emigrated to America. We had occasionally 



384 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

1746. It was a most unequal fight— 5,000 ill-clad, ill- 
fed, poorly armed men, under Prince Charles Edward 
Stuart, were opposed by twice as many Royal troops, in 
the pink of perfection, abundantly supplied with all the 
implements of war; and yet such marvellous courage 
did the Highlanders show that it was everywhere con- 
ceded, in spite of the great odds against them, they 
would assuredly have won the day had not the proud 
Macdonalds (for a fancied slight) sulked and refused 
to charge. The Jacobites swept aside the first section 
of the Royalist troops as if they had been made of 
straw, but before the second line was reached the 
Prince's men were mowed down by the terrible and 
well-directed fire of the English. It was all over in less 
than forty minutes, and the undoubted rightful heir 
to Britain's Crown was never again able to give battle 
for his rights. The Duke of Cumberland was the victor 
if not the hero of the day. 

As we walked over the field we met several other 
tourists, and in exchanging comments with them we 
discovered a complete unanimity of opinion as to the 
unnecessary cruelty of the English Duke, who still 
rightly retains in history the ignoble title of ' ' Butcher ' ' 
against all comers.* 

corresponded, but never came nearer, and I saw him for the first time 
when he was just twice my age. In the gloaming of his life after an 
honorable and useful career he is still hale and hearty and was able to 
give me much valuable and reliable information regarding himself and 
his interesting ancestors. I make no apology for noting this curious 
episode in my life, but on the contrary have a melancholy pleasure in 
putting the fact on record. Truth is certainly stranger than fiction, 
and such a remarkable event is without a parallel in the whole of my 
knowledge of life, or in all my reading experience. 

* Innumerable stories of his brutality were told to us, but one speci- 
men must here suffice: Riding over the field with some followers, 
immediately after the battle, the Duke of Cumberland noticed a young 
wounded officer resting on his arm and viewing the triumphal pro- 
cession as it passed by. He asked the half-dazed man to what party 
he belonged, and instantly received the reply, " To the Prince." Cum- 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 385 

Personally I am glad that Cumberland got a good 
drubbing at Lawfeld about a year after Culloden, and 
ten years later, at Hastenbeck he was compelled to 
hasten back to a safe position after another inglorious 
defeat. 

What a horrid, senseless, devilish thing war is and 
ever will be ! How much better for even Revolutionists 
to wipe out a dynasty by wholesale assassination, as has 
just been done in Servia! And who would have greatly 
objected if Cousins Cumberland and Charles had blown 
each other's shallow brains out on Culloden field, if 
such a performance would have saved the countless 
noble lives and suffering and property losses that had 
to be endured on account of "The Forty-five"! Nay 
more; good man as George Washington was— he would 
have shown still more nobility if he had ventured a per- 
sonal duel with George III. and the world had bound 
the followers of both leaders to abide by the result. 
Suppose the two Kentuckians, Abraham Lincoln and 
Jefferson Davis, had decided the issues of America's 
great Civil War by an acceptable duel confined to them- 
selves ! The political results would have been the same 
as they were in 1865, I believe, but how much would 

berland ordered one of his staff — who happened to be Major Wolfe of 
Quebec fame — to despatch " that insolent scoundrel " ; but the gallant 
Wolfe refused point-blank to do it. Several other officers were asked 
to " pistol " the youth, but none would perpetrate such a cold-blooded 
murder, until a common soldier was commanded and compelled to be 
executioner, and brave Charles Fraser, younger of Inverallochy, thus 
fell a victim to the inhuman monster. Wolfe was never forgiven for his 
" insubordination " by the " Butcher," and on more than one occasion 
in his later military career was snubbed and insulted by the loath- 
some creature he had very properly rebelled against. It speaks well 
for the self-control of the Highlanders that Cumberland was permitted 
to die in his bed, as the feeling against him while he lived was most 
intense, and to-day his name receives far more execration from the 
Clansmen and Clanswomen of the north than even the devil himself 
has ever experienced. 



386 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

have been saved!* If old Kruger had faced Chamber- 
lain with pistols or broadswords and both accepted the 
issue, how much South African misery and financial 
loss might have been averted, and how many brave and 
able men might still be with us ! 

The literature and art that is connected with Jacobit- 
ism is a most important section in all first-class libraries 
of Scottish History. In my travels I have seen many 
collections, but none to compare with the Jacobite 
treasures of Mr. William M. MaeBean of New York 
City, a native of Nairn, and consequently almost a child 
of Culloden Moor. He very wisely has not wasted 
much time and money on what may be called personal 
relics, but his accumulations of books, pamphlets, bal- 
lads, maps, manuscripts, prints, etc., pertaining to the 
Stuarts' " lost cause," and collateral topics, are not 
equalled by anything on this side of the Atlantic. Mr. 
MaeBean also knows all about his collection, and has 
developed the fastidious taste in regard to fine copies 
and perfect classification that marks the true enthusiast. 

One of the interesting features of Inverness is the new 
"Mercat Cross" presented to the city by Sir E. B. 
Finlay, M.P., for the Inverness Burghs, and at present 
Attorney General for England. At the base of this 
cross is the famous Clach-na-cuddin which has been 
called the ' ' Palladium of Inverness. ' ' 



* We decry lynchings, as they always ought to be decried, and re- 
sisted in all civilized countries, and yet what is war but the wildest 
kind of lynching on a colossal scale, and too often bearing in its train 
protracted ills that lynchings do not bring. If fights are necessary, — 
and they often are — confine them to the principals. When any single 
man becomes a menace to the good of humanity he should only need a 
warning "move!" from the great Policeman "International Law," 
and if the hint remains unheeded the same powerful officer should be 
able to run him in and dispose of him by International Arbitration. 
Jacobite as I am to the core in one sense, and grateful for all the fine 
Scottish songs that cluster around the hopeless Stuart movement, I 
have long believed them to be bought at too great a price. 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 387 

I was greatly impressed with the town hall, contain- 
ing many finely stained glass windows emblazoned with 
the Eoyal, Scottish, Burgh and Highland clan arms, 
also figures of Sir Walter Scott and Ossian, represent- 
ing modern and ancient Scottish literature. There are 
also in this hall many fine paintings and busts of local 
and national celebrities. 

In front of the county buildings and court house, 
occupying a site commanding as fine a view as may be 
seen in the north of Scotland, a magnificent statue of 
Flora Macdonald has been erected, the gift of Captain 
J. H. Macdonald, of Caskuben, Aberdeenshire. The 
sculptor was Mr. Andrew Davidson, of Rome, a native 
of Inverness, whose work has been greatly and justly 
admired. 

All the cemeteries claimed my attention, and in two 
of them I was fortunate in seeing tombstones made by 
Hugh Miller, who also lettered them and composed the 
inscriptions. In Greyfriars Churchyard I received 
quite a shock in coming unexpectedly on the grave of 
Mr. Baillie, that I knew as tenant of the farm of Mains 
of Rhynie.* 

In the same burying ground is an effigy of a warrior, 
supposed to be the Earl of Mar who commanded the 
Lowland army at the Battle of Harlaw, 1411. As he 
was also Lord of Kildrummy Castle it appealed to my 
imagination with extra force. 

* He was " a man of weight," and when John MacPherson measured 
me for my first Sunday suit he said to my uncle with a smile : " I think 
I have a pair o' troosers here that will suit the laddie ready-made" — 
at the same time reaching for a pair of Baillie's. They were tried on 
and wrapped around me several times, to the delight of Johnny and 
my uncle, the opinion being expressed that I would be " a gey gutters to 
fill them oot." 

While I think of it I must here tell one of John MacPherson's stories. 
It was about a Rhynie lad that had fee'd to a place in the Cabrach, and 
after being away for two months returned home unexpectedly, saying, 
in the manner of the district " I'm come hame." " And what brings 



388 HERE AND THEBE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Tom-na-hurich cemetery is a symmetrical wooded hill, 
standing alone, like an island, its top being 222 feet 
above the level of the sea. It is a most beautiful spot, 
and commands a fine view of Inverness and the sur- 
rounding district. An American naval officer was the 
first to be buried in this cemetery. His grave is marked 
by a monument. 

A line must be given to the lovely Ness which flows 
through the city like a river of shining silver, always 
filling its banks from shore to shore. To walk along its 
side as far as the Ness Islands, and lose oneself among 
the rustic bridges and sylvan nooks in the summer 
gloaming, inhaling the fine, balmy air for which In- 
verness is so justly noted, is to enjoy one of the choicest 
natural bits of bonnie Scotland. 

Among indoor treats I must include a visit to Rev. 
Murdo Mackenzie's church, where the services were all 
conducted in Gaelic. The sermon lasted forty-five 
minutes, and judging by gesture, facial expression and 
voice intonation was an eloquent discourse. One of the 
congregation with an ear-trumpet sat on the top step 
of the pulpit stair.* The style of "precenting" was 
new to me, and I think the nearest approach to the old 

ye here?" said his mother. "Were they nae guid to you?" "Oh, ay." 
" Did they work ye owre hard ?" "No." " Did ye nae get meat enough ?" 
"Ay, plenty." " Foo did ye leave than?" " Weel," said the loon, 
"When I gaed there a stirkie dee'd (died) and they sauted (salted) it 
— and we lived on it for a while. Then a sheep dee'd and they sauted 
it and syne we lived on that." " Weel ?" " Yesterday the aul' granny 
dee'd an' — I was sent awa' to the shop for saut (salt), so I thocht it 
was time to leave." The boy did not evidently stop to think the salt was 
needed to place on the corpse (according to an old custom) but imagined 
the old woman was to be pickled and go the way of the stirkie and the 
sheep ! 

* My attention was also distracted by an evident maniac who came 
into church during the sermon, took a stand in the most conspicuous 
place in front of the congregation, and behaved so strangely that I was 
very glad to see him take his departure before the benediction was 
pronounced. 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 389 

time ' * Letter-gae ' ' I am ever likely to see. The music 
was curious to begin with, and when the leader of the 
singing chanted alone every line or couplet in advance 
of the worshippers, it seemed a decided return to primi- 
tive times. I noticed the Bibles in the pews were titled 
"Biobull," and the "Epistle to James" was repre- 
sented by ' ' Litir Sheumais. ' ' After the final psalm was 
sung a young married couple presented a child for bap- 
tism. The man held the babe for a time and then passed 
it to the woman. Before the rite was performed the 
minister gave a long exhortation, stamped his feet, and 
clenched his fists, sometimes looking at the congrega- 
tion and sometimes at the parents of the child. It was 
well he was so far away, as if nearer he would have 
assuredly scared the infant. The poor father stood with 
bowed head, looking thoroughly ashamed. I have no 
doubt he had the responsibilities of a parent pictured 
to him as he never realized before. When the preacher 
at last let up, the father snatched the child from the 
mother, the minister descended from the pulpit, quickly 
sprinkled the child and the whole ceremony was con- 
cluded by all present singing what I soon realized to be, 
in spite of its Celtic veil, ' ' Do thou with hyssop sprinkle 
me." 

From Inverness I ran up to see and taste the world- 
famous Strathpeffer Springs. This Highland Spa, the 
property of the Countess of Cromartie, nestles cosily 
at the base of Ben Wyvis in Ross-shire, and from 
spring to autumn the little village is crowded with 
beauty, fashion and wealth from every quarter. In 
addition to drinking the healing waters— which are 
sulphurous and chalybeate— the complete Strathpefrer 
treatment embraces a system of baths, including peat, 
pine and needle bathing. With fine music, golfing, 
cycling and other attractions this Highland resort never 
knows a dull season. There are fixed hours for serving 



390 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

the waters, but although I was late in reaching the pump- 
room and various wells, I had no difficulty in getting a 
Highland lassie to permit me to sample the springs, and 
see all the particular sights. Coming through Ding- 
wall I had found it so inviting that I lingered longer 
there than my program called for. 

No one needs to go to Pisa to see a leaning tower, as 
there is a fine example of a big monument considerably 
off the plumb in Lord Tarbat's memorial at Dingwall. 
I walked around it and could hardly believe it has been 
"hanging" in the same position for many decades. It 
is located on a little knoll opposite the establishment of 
the Northern Weekly, el first-class business and family 
newspaper with a wide circulation at home and abroad. 
I was very fortunate in meeting Mr. Norman Macrae, 
the editor, and he kindly accompanied me to as many of 
the notable Dingwall points of interest as my limited 
time permitted, giving me as we walked along an out- 
line of the ancient city's history. Dingwall has a great 
claim to distinction in being the birthplace of Macbeth. 
The local records about him give him a good character. 
He was neither traitor nor usurper and held a better 
title to the throne than "gentle Duncan," but thanks to 
William Shakespeare's gifted pen poor Macbeth will 
never be able to overcome the dramatist's version of 
his doings.* 

The very name of Dingwall proves its importance in 
ancient times, as it indicates the seat of the Norse par- 
liaments. It has long been a royal burgh and the capital 



* So far as history is concerned — and who shall say that history does 
not affect mankind? — it was really up to recent times of less importance 
to do than to get a poet to imagine what should have been done, to 
idealize it, to give it " a local habitation and a name " and to start the 
conception on an immortality of fame or infamy as fancy or whim might 
dictate. No wonder poets were called " makers," " creators," as they 
had powers that ordinary creatures could never aspire to; and even 
yet, I doubt not, in some places they are making and unmaking reputa- 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 391 

of the important shire of Ross— the County Palatine of 
Scotland. Gladstone's maternal ancestors were natives 
of Dingwall, as the present citizens are justly proud 
to tell.* 

The late lamented General Sir Hector A. MacDonald 
was a native of the district and in looking through the 
town hall I saw a fine collection of his military trophies 
on display. Poor fellow, he was then in the height of 
his fame, and how soon and how sadly it was to be 
obscured. Much has been said and written on his death 
and maltreatment by the War Office, and I must needs 
record here some of my own musings evoked by the 
tragic end and shabby treatment meted out to the mod- 
ern Highland warrior : 

The Best Rebuke. 

His name it was Hector MacDonald, 

He came from the Highlands so grand, 
And he fought and he bled for his country 

Wherever his country had land. 
Braw Scotsmen are yet in the army, 

But the bravest and freest o' flaw, 
The gallant Sir Hector MacDonald, 

He noo is forever awa'. 

His foes that were foreign wha met him 

He conquer'd again and again, 
And the fiends in the end that upset him 

Wore uniforms just like his ain. 



tions in the same old way, but of course under much greater limitations. 
On the whole they have been good men, and even in the field of history 
they are conceded to be better recorders and interpreters than most 
of the professional historians. The press has pretty largely succeeded 
to the ancient powers of bards and chroniclers in civilized countries and 
any man who cannot now win name and fame " by right divine " has 
still a chance to get printed prominence in the newspaper ; just as surely 
as no man can ever hope to achieve full power and position who is so 
foolish as to antagonize the reporters, the reviewers and the editors. 

* Writing me March 12, 1890, Mr. Gladstone said that by accident of 
birth he was born in Liverpool, but " my father and mother, and all my 
forebears, were Scotch exclusively." 



392 HEBE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

They envied the higher promotion 
Their jealousy couldna reca', 
And repaid him for a' his devotion 
By drivin' his head to the wa\ 

Ye Highlanders, lookin' to listin', 

Consider afore it's owre late; 
Review the career of MacDonald 

And think, while ye may, on his fate. 
The man who had thrice saved his country 

Was left like a felon to fa', 
Neglected, dishonor'd, affronted 

As if he were naething ava. 

Great Britain has need o' her sodgers — 

And never mair needin' than noo; 
But Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder, 

Stick fast to your trade, or the ploo. 
When sergeants come roon' ye recruitin', 

O' glory and honour to blaw 
Remember poor Hector MacDonald 

And thunder your " No " to them a' ! 

Mr. Munro, of the editorial staff of the New York 
North American Review, also hails from this part of 
Scotland. It is the home of his clan, which has 
flourished here for nearly a thousand years and is still 
in power. Some writers say the tartan of the Forty- 
second Highlanders is a Munro plaid, the darkness of 
the cloth suggesting the name of " Black Watch." If 
this claim is accepted it gives an added interest to Scot- 
land 's "Munro doctrine," as preached by that famous 
regiment. The Munro tartan of the present era is a 
decided red. 

I concluded my visit to Dingwall by carefully examin- 
ing the Old Court House, even ascending the rickety 
clock tower to get a better view of the town and sur- 
rounding country. It made me " creepy" to see some 
of the old prison cells, including the hole where the 
maniacs were kept for want of a better asylum. "What 
a contrast to the fine establishment for the insane of 
the northern counties which (thanks to the kindness of 



IN AND ABOUT INVERNESS. 393 

Mr. Gilbert Matheson) I had visited a few days pre- 
viously when at Inverness! Dr. Keay, the superin- 
tendent, had everything as clean as a new pin, and the 
comforts, conveniences and helpful appliances every- 
where to be seen in my tour of inspection, outdoors and 
in, left me with the best possible impressions as to what 
is being done for those who are mentally so unfortunate 
as to need a community's most loving care.* 

* I was pleased to learn that the superintendents of such places re- 
ceive big salaries, and it has naturally resulted in bringing to the 
work some of the ablest men in the medical profession. Only last June 
Dr. Keay was called to a higher position at Bangour near Edinburgh. 
The announcement made me think not only of his great Inverness 
asylum, but also recalled his magnificent deer-head trophies and the 
finest collection of curling stones I had seen in Scotland. 



POSTSCRIPT. 
The Final Verdict on "Fighting Mac." 
The Commission appointed to examine the charges against Sir Hector MacDonald early 
in October issued their report unanimously, unmistakably and completely vindicating 
him, and endorsing the opinion of all true and well-informed Scotsmen. 
" Done to death by slanderous tongues 
Was the hero that here lies." 
The pity is that the gallant Highlander did not send a few of his would-be vilifiers to 
"Kingdom-come" before him, particularly including all executively connected with the 
scurrilous sheet that first printed and circulated the infamous lies. 



SOME OF THE BONNETS OF BONNY DUNDEE. 

My first impression of this important Scottish town 
was disappointing, but I had not been an hour in Brit- 
ain's Juteopolis until I began to see beauties as well as 
blemishes. It was here I struck the nearest approach 
to a reasonably priced first-class American Commercial 
House that I had found in Scotland, and I am quite 
sure any one that patronizes "Mather's Temperance 
Hotel" will thank me for the recommendation I cheer- 
fully and freely make. 

I had an invitation to visit Sir John Leng, M. P., the 
first citizen of Dundee, and, although a native of Eng- 
land, the one man who has done more for his adopted 
home than any other of his day and generation. As a 
publisher of popular newspapers and magazines he has 
forged ahead of all competitors. His People's Journal 
and his People's Friend are more widely circulated 
than any other weekly Scottish publications, being 
known all over the British Isles and also enjoying an 
immense patronage in the colonies and in fact wherever 
the Scot has settled. This partiality has been shown 
to them for many long years, and coupled with the fine 
business of the Dundee Advertiser and its evening edi- 
tion, also owned by Sir John, he has been enabled to 
build up a colossal fortune, and erect a publishing and 
printing establishment of altogether American propor- 
tions. Had he depended on the trade of Dundee alone 
the chances are he would have made only a fair living ; 
but the very necessity that drove him beyond his im- 
mediate locality proved to be the main cause of his big 
success. He is over the Psalmist's limit in years, but 
is too busy a man to know it or to show it. His Parlia- 

394 



SOME OF THE BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE. 395 

mentary duties now naturally absorb much of his time, 
yet any one that comes in close touch with him can soon 
see that he is still the actual director of all his enter- 
prises, whether on the banks of the Tay or on the banks 
of the Thames. At his private office I had the pleasure 
of meeting his able son, Mr. Wm. C. Leng, also Mr. A. 
H. Millar, the historical and antiquarian expert, and 
other members of the noted editorial staff. There also 
by accident I was introduced to Mr. Alexander Hutche- 
son, retired architect, who spent considerable time in 
showing me the most interesting sights of the city. No 
one could have had a more patient or intelligent guide, 
and I profited largely by the steps he saved me and the 
information he imparted. Among others, we visited 
E. C. Walker, Esq., a solicitor, and one of the foremost 
heraldic experts in Scotland. His knowledge of his 
hobby is sufficient to make even a big man look small. 
We also took a run in to see James Falconer, known 
everywhere for his museum of antiquities, and his 
unique library. I was shown fine specimens of "horn- 
books" from the earliest ages until the last example. 
Long letters by Scott, Hogg, Tennyson, Christopher 
North and such intellectual giants were everywhere in 
profusion. It would take days to go over his crockery 
and his pottery. A blue and white jug showing "Poll 
of Plymouth" on one side and "George Washington" 
on the other aroused my cupidity, but it was too big to 
steal for the Lancaster Historical Society, or the at- 
tempt might have been made, as Falconer is not a 
seller, but a collector. Miss Falconer, his sister, is also 
imbued with his tastes, and is a sympathetic assistant 
in classifying and displaying his treasures. Falconer 
is specially interested at present in railroad literature 
and printed relics relating to the introduction of ' ' The 
Iron Horse." 



396 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Finally, although more a head than a ' bonnet, ' I must 
not omit to mention the most conspicuous natural ob- 
ject in the neighborhood of Dundee since it is asso- 
ciated with my own name, — the high hill known as 
"The Law." "Law" in Scotland means "hill" and 
instances readily occur in "North Berwick Law," 
"Largo Law," "Dunse Law," etc., but "The Law" is 
also not uncommon. Strange to say "Low" is a cor- 
ruption of the same name, as in "Caldon Low," and 
thus we have "Low" applied to something "high" 
which is only another demonstration that black can be 
proved to mean white if we have the requisite infor- 
mation. 

James Scott Skinner. 

Almost a Dundee man now; although preeminently 
a citizen of Scotland, is James Scott Skinner, Caledo- 
nia's veteran violinist and composer. Skinner comes 
of a distinguished musical Aberdeenshire family, and 
was himself born at Upper Banchory, on Deeside. He 
is now full of years and honors, and has to his credit 
the best Strathspeys and melodies that have been pro- 
duced in Scotland in our day and generation. His own 
name and the names of his leading tunes are household 
words wherever Scotch people foregather. This en- 
viable position has been attained by Skinner through 
the hardest kind of work, united to native genius. His 
compositions run into the hundred and he has at least 
half a score of stately collections to his honor, while 
his masterpieces are numbered by the dozen. Any one 
of them would be sufficient to secure immortality for 
a musician, but we have become so accustomed to good 
things from Skinner that when a new favorite comes 
from his prolific brain we take it as a matter of course, 
—and expect another soon to follow. Skinner belongs 
to the class more appreciated when dead than when liv- 



SOME OF THE BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE. 397 

ing, and only when his fiddle is laid aside for the last 
time, will Scotland realize his greatness— and her loss. 
He is at present our leading exponent of Scotch violin 
music, and is a first favorite wherever he appears. He 
scored a big success in his American and Canadian tour 
some eleven years ago, and since then he has been con- 
tinuously before the public in the old country, appear- 
ing at all the leading music and concert halls from Lon- 
don to Inverness. In his picturesque Highland cos- 
tume he makes a striking figure anywhere. His pa- 
triotism is of the intensest type, and considering what 
he has done and what pleasure his works will continue 
to give after he is gone few indeed of our day will be 
entitled to more of Scotland 's gratitude. I have known 
him intimately for a score of years, have seen him close 
at hand, as well as viewed him from a distance, and I 
pronounce him a genius of the highest order and an 
industrious, well-informed, kindly, friendly man. He 
is happily mated and permanently located at Monikie 
near Dundee. When I visited him last summer I ques- 
tioned him closely as to his methods of composition and 
was fortunate in securing from his own lips the story 
of the birth of all his most noted successes. His style 
is spontaneous, erratic and to some extent irresponsible, 
but he knows the value of cultivation and polish, get- 
ting neither peace nor rest until he succeeds in putting 
the final touch to his work. Amidst his many profes- 
sional engagements he is steadily progressing with 
' ' The Harp and Claymore, ' ' which will be his greatest 
collected work and is destined to give him a preeminent 
position among Scottish musical composers and editors 
of any age and for all time. It is out of the question 
for me to enumerate his many big hits, but as a matter 
of record I feel that I cannot miss this opportunity to 
name his " Cradle Song," "Bonnie Lass of Bon- Ac- 
cord," "Miller o' Hirn," "Laird of Drumblair" and 
27 



398 HEEE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

last but not least, on account of the personal compli- 
ment to myself, "James D. Law's Eeel."* 

* Last summer I saw quite a lot of Skinner on the platform and at 
his home. Monikie is an ideal location for him, handy for reaching 
any place north or south, yet sufficiently away from the highways 
of travel to guarantee the rest and peace he needs when " off duty." 
The Dundee Water Works are at Monikie, and many other interesting 
points, not the least being the Maule Tower erected by a grateful 
tenantry to Lord Panmure, the eccentric and generous. Was pleased 
to note in the register the signature of my friend, Wm. Henry Maule, 
of Philadelphia — a recent visitor, and no doubt of Panmure stock. 



AULD AYR. 

" A wicked toun " in days bygane 

I'm sure it needs nae special glasses 
To see it still can haud its ain 

For " honest men and bonny lasses." 

Just as Dumfries, before the days of Burns, was 
associated with Bruce, so, before the poet arrived, Ayr 
rejoiced in the fame of Wallace. The hero of Scotland 
held "a black Parliament" there in 1297. It had its 
beginning at Lanark where Wallace was provoked into 
a quarrel with some English soldiers and after killing 
one had to take "to the woods" with his followers. 
In revenge the English general killed Wallace's wife. 
News was brought to the warrior and his grief for one 
"so blithe and bright" was terrible to see. He col- 
lected thirty men, attacked the English at night, him- 
self killed the cur who had slain Lady Wallace, and with 
the aid of his devoted ' ' brither Scots ' ' sent the souls of 
two hundred and forty more Sassenachs into eternity 
before morning. It was then war to the hilt, but be- 
tween strategy and open fighting Wallace held his own. 
At length his enemies laid a trap for him and pretended 
to call "a council of peace" to be held in Ayr. The 
English had fixed on a big barn and secretly filled it 
with soldiers, furnishing it with noosed ropes hanging 
from the rafters. The Scots in knightly faith kept the 
compact. Barons and squires went in— men brave as 
lions, and always able to hold their own in a fair field. 
They were seized as soon as they entered, hanged in a 
twinkling, and their dead bodies heaped in a corner. 
The trap was a great success. Wallace by rare luck 
came late, and a loyal woman who had found out the 
treachery waylaid him and told him all. It nearly un- 

399 



400 HEBE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

nerved him, for many of his best friends, including his 
uncle, Sir Reginald Crawford, were lying with stretched 
necks in that dismal corner. Wallace retired to plan 
revenge. The English were so overjoyed they cele- 
brated their success in a big carousal. Most remained 
over night in the barn and where the others had gone 
to sleep the houses were marked. At the proper time 
Wallace and three hundred men he had collected sur- 
rounded the barn and fired it. They also attended to the 
marked houses, and not a man of the English escaped. 
All were burned to death, or killed by the sword, and to 
this day "The Barn of Ayr" is remembered by the 
Scotch— and by the English not forgotten. Wallace is 
commemorated in Ayr by "The Wallace Tower" and 
two other statues of Scotland's deliverer. 

But for every one that visits Ayr even for Wallace 's 
memory at least a thousand look it up for its Burns 
associations. Fighters and generals are necessary 
evils at the best, and the antithesis of the poets, although 
the poet and the soldier have been united more than 
once in feeling and in fact. There is something fascin- 
ating and romantic about war from a surface view, but 
it is a sorry profession. Even Burns himself thought 
once of applying for ' ' a stand of colors, ' ' and we know 
he joined the volunteer movement at Dumfries, shining 
better however as Laureate than as a marksman. By- 
ron rushed into the field, but openly declaring his desire 
to commit suicide. The old Cavalier poets were soldiers 
by accident or force of circumstances. Had they been 
"sodgers" only they would have died unnoticed but in 
the mass, with a few rare exceptions. 

And so Ayr is esteemed for its bard— it is "The 
Land of Burns." The birthplace of immortal Robin 
has attracted more pilgrims than the proudest palace in 
the British Isles. Even Shakespeare shrines do not 
command the homage of the hallowed ground asso- 



AULD AYE. 401 

ciated with the name of Burns, any more than can 
Shakespeare 's birthday evoke the universal enthusiasm 
that greets the twenty-fifth of January. The English 
are fond of naming their poet when a Scotchman begins 
to brag about Burns. But as one loyal admirer said: 
If Burns michtna hae written Hamlet certain 
sure it is that Willie Shakespeare never could hae writ- 
ten "Tarn o' Shanter"— so there you are! Glory 
enough for both and room for both. Just as we know 
Burns was a lover of Shakespeare's works, so we be- 
lieve Shakespeare would have enjoyed Burns 's had their 
eras been reversed. But Scots can better relish the two 
languages than the English can do. Cavil not at the 
word " language" applied to Scotch, for it is more 
than a dialect variant, being one of the three big Bri- 
tish linguistic streams that parted company after Chau- 
cer's day. Before that period English and Scotch poets 
used the same vernacular or mother-tongue. What is 
now known as English flowed through England, per- 
meated English and confined itself to England. The 
Scotch, who generally know a good thing when they 
have it, held on to what is now called Doric, the true 
language of poetry, and right well worthy to be styled 
the sweetest, couthiest, richest, subtlest, strongest,* most 
melodious, most graphic, most patriotic, most natural 
and most winning tongue in Europe. In tonic flavor the 
only rival a Scotch voice need ever fear is the soft, 
musical cadence of correct English as spoken by a belle 
of Old Virginia. While on this topic it is to be remem- 



* Let Croasland, and other crass-headed Cockney scribblers, ken — 
for instance — that in some parts of Scotland " unspeakable " is pro- 
nounced " unspikeable." If the Scotch sometimes eat what he thinks is 
the wrong end of the celery it is because they prefer that end. He found 
them so bright, poor man, that his reflections on Scotia and the Scots 
were really his own reflections from them, and he never knew he had 
only drawn his ain miserable " counterfeit presentment " until he ap- 
peared betwixt the brods o' his bookie " taken from life." 



402 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

bered that literature was flourishing in Scotland in the 
era of Caedmon and Beda, long before it appeared in 
England; and we also know that down to the time of 
Dunbar and Lindsay the Scottish poets believed they 
were writing in "Inglis." 

The first Burns item that greets the stranger in Ayr 
is the fine statue of the poet not far from the railway 
station. " Broad based" on its pedestal of Aberdeen 
granite it seemed to recognize the northern foundations 
of the bard, since his father was a native of the ' ' North 
Countrie. ' ' I paid a visit to Stonehaven and Glenbervie 
and saw the graves and homes of Burns 's paternal an- 
cestors in my walks through the district. The Kincar- 
dineshire branch of the family still stick to the old form 
of the name— "Burness."* 

At Drumlithie a nice old lady, proud of the fact that 
she was a kinswoman of the poet's, was invited by my 
cousin to take tea with us, and she had lots to tell of the 
Burnesses of the Mearns with traditionary stories of 
the bard's visit to his father's relations. 

The great hostelry of Ayr is the "Tarn o'Shanter 
Inn," where Douglas Graham of Shanter Farm spent 
more time and bawbees than his dame approved of — 
but who could resist the blandishments of the landlady, 
the fine liquids and the company of "Souter Johnny"? 
We had to pree something ourselves from the bar and 
the famous quech in memory of "auld lang syne." 
1 1 iji^g rp wa Brig S ' ' may still be seen, but the new one is 
new since the poet's day. There is a Carnegie Free 
Library in Ayr, and many fine walks and drives about 
the town. But of course the attraction of all is "The 
Cottage where Burns was born." You can now reach 
it in a few minutes by trolley which runs as far as the 



* It is a pity in my opinion that the poet ever changed it to " Burns," 
presumably because he could find more rhyming words to the contracted 
form. Who would care to have Horace Howard Furness follow the 
example and go down to posterity as " H. H. Furns " ! 



AULD AYR. 403 

monument at Bridge of Doon. A fine lodge, museum, and 
well-kept grounds first attract notice, and after a look 
among the relics and a chat with Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, 
who are in charge, the birthplace is entered from the 
back door. It is not unique as a building, many yet 
existing in Scotland like it and much worse than it in 
appearance or appointments. When one sees such 
hovels, and comes to know what great men and fine 
women have had their origin in them they excite wonder 
as well as reverence. We find ourselves speculating 
how any one could ever crawl out of such sordid and 
comfortless surroundings. William Burnes was one of 
nature's noblemen; though poor in worldly wealth a 
millionaire in all the finer qualities of manhood. His 
life was a constant struggle with poverty, sickness and 
misfortune. He was well-behaved, well-liked, even re- 
spected, but never succeeded. His wife— Agnes 
Brown— was a woman of superior mould with no book- 
learning, but full of mystic tales and ballad lore. The 
father realized before he died the treasure he had in 
his oldest son, but he received no advantages the other 
children did not get. Gilbert, the second child, was also 
a man of unusual ability. The younger brother, Wil- 
liam, died in early life. The sisters were clever above 
the average. All had brains— and to Eobert was given 
extra the divine spark of genius. Poor fellow, he paid 
a big price for it, but "what is to be— it is to be." Too 
often the laurel crown leads by the way of the martyr 's 
cross.* The cottage is as well known as the alphabet, 

* How easy it would have been for some one with plenty, or in political 
power, to have put poor Burns in a soft crib! No pension, nor even a 
sinecure wanted, but a position that would give mental independence, 
financial ease, and ample leisure to woo the muse. I doubt not but 
what there were men of wealth then living who posed as lovers of litera- 
ture, and even admirers of poets, but the bards — as in the case with 
most patrons now — had all to be safely dead before exciting real inter- 
est. " Put not your trust in princes " is an old song. Here is a recent 
echo: 



404 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

LlPPEN TO YOUBSEL'. 
Air—" Birnieboozle." 

Lippen to yoursel', laddie, 

Dinna look to ony ither; 
Gin ye would do a' ye should — 

Lippen to yoursel'. 
'Twill save you aft a heavy he'rt 
To cultivate the helpfu' airt 
Of actin' aye a manly pairt 

An' trustin' to yoursel'! 

Lippen to yoursel', laddie, 

Irrespective o' the weather; 
Rain or shine aye bear in min' — 

Lippen to yoursel'. 
Ye'll meet in life wi' lots o' men 
When naething's wanted gleg to len' 
But speir them when ye need them — then 

It's lippen to yoursel'! 

Lippen to yoursel', laddie, 

Frae this counsel, dinna swither; 
Frien's may dee or disagree — 

Lippen to yoursel'. 
Wi' your heid and he'rt and han' 
Help your brither a' ye can 
But for you, yoursel', my man — 

Lippen to yoursel'! 

All honor to the noble Duke of Buccleugh, who did not prate about 
his high opinion of James Hogg, and try to borrow some lustre from the 
poet on the thrifty plan of empty public praise; but on the suggestion 
of his Duchess, quietly presented the " Ettrick Shepherd " with a farm 
and a home for life; by this single act of substantial kindness doing 
more for Scottish letters than all the nobility and gentry that so grandly 
" patronized " Burns when he lived, or have tried to advertise them- 
selves by fattening and battening on his fame since he died neglected, 
starved and broken-hearted in dark Dumfries. Opportunely, my 
daughter, America, has just brought me the Lancaster New Era of this 
evening (July 11, 1903) by which I see that a copy of the " Kilmarnock 
Burns " was sold in London on Thursday to the Alloway Monument 
Trustees for $5,000. Proud as we are to record the fact it only adds 
to the sorrow and the shame of every true Scot who remembers Robin's 
treatment when he lived and moved and had his being — and his needs. 
It is fine to see him so highly appreciated now, but why, oh why, did 
he not taste a little of it when it would have done him good? What 
sum would be paid now to restore the fine Lyrical Machine named 



AULD AYE. 



405 



" Robeet Buens," with all details in good shape, and thirty-eight years 
of happy output guaranteed? We could then count on three times as 
much work as he left us and even (if possible) an improvement in 
quality. Why should we have to write " 'Twas ever thus " ? — 

Since Time began, whate'er the cause 
It's fixed as ane o' Nature's laws 
To stint the poet o' applause 

As weel as bread 
Until he fills the maggots' maws 

Amang the dead! 

And when he's fairly o'er the burn, 
Withoot the sma'est chance to turn, 
There's coontless thoosan's gleg to mourn 

The clever chiel 
And big a costly vase or urn 

Aboon his beil. 

Ay, some will syne pay for his book 
A ransom that micht free a Duke 
Wha wadna gi'en the bard a look 

When he was here, 
Forbye to help him to a neuk 

His he'rt to cheer. 

What say ye, Buens? Direct my pen! 
Are you more worthy now than then? 
Were you less needin' gear to spen' 

On bairns and wife 
Afore Death sleely slippit ben 

An' took your life! 

" It male's me turn toithin my grave 
To see the ivye the coofs behave; 
Mysel' they didna care to save 

A T or ease my lot, 
And noo their praise and a' the lave 
I value not! 

" Instead o' raisin' stanes to me 
And xoarin' gear I'll never see 
I hope they'll maybe think a wee 

Upon my kin 
In blood or brain — whaure'er they be 

The warl' within. 



406 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

" Noo happy here, — weel sure I am, 
Wi' clearer views, since here I cam', — 
Expense on me is but a sham 

That they may shine 
Wha ne'er were worth a tinkler's — dram 
To me or mine. 

" And even tho' I micht succeed 
To raise my body frae the deid 
I wadna hae to lose my heid 

On hoo I'd fare, 
Jaloosin' I micht beg my breid 

For a' they'd care! 

"'Severe'? — It may seem sae to you, 
But I am independent noo; 
And mindin' what I warslt thro' 

In auld lang syne 
I only fear it's just as true — 

As Truth's divine!" 

and calls for no detailed description here. It is now in 
good hands, cared for in a dignified manner, and will 
remain for countless ages one of Scotland's most noted 
pilgrim shrines.* Up the road towards Doon Auld Al- 
loway 's Kirk is found, and then the big Monument, and 
the Brig,— and the banks and braes o' Bonnie Doon, and 
Doon itself. All are minutely and lovingly inspected, 
examined and mused upon, and finally locked up with 
the choicest treasures of a literary pilgrimage. At 
every spot and point and place Burns seems to be with 
the traveler. My visit was paid on October 25, 1902. 
To be in harmony with the poetical atmosphere all 
around, my note-book jottings took the form of verse, 
and are here reproduced to conclude this chapter, with 
some alterations, from the copy printed in the current 
Ayrshire Post. 

* Kilmarnock pleased me best in regard to Burns relics, MSS. and 
books. The poet's memorial there occupies a commanding position and 
has a fine statue. I paid a visit to the little bookseller's shop that 
represents the one where the first edition of Burns was printed. " Auld 
Killie " looked thriving, but I could not procure a Kilmarnock bonnet 
or even a nicht-caip in any of the stores I visited, much to my dis- 
appointment. A visit to the Dick Institute was greatly enjoyed. 



AULD AYE. 407 

With Burns at Ayr. 
The "banks and braes o' bonnie Doon" 

Looked unco saft and weet the day, 
When a' my lane I wander 'd roun' 

Whaur Burns was aften wont to stray. 
And yet in spite o' cauld and rain, 

The little birdies free frae care, 
Sang oot to me as sweet a strain 

As they had ever warbled there. 

I saw the noted places a'— 

The Monument upon the hill, 
The Auld Brig and the New Brig braw, 

Baith feats o' engineerin' skill; 
I saw the grotto o' the shells; 

And Alloway's auld ruined kirk, 
Whaur Clootie, as oor poet tells, 

And witches whyles were kent to lirk. 

Within the little rude kirkyard, 

Unvex'd by ony pompous urns, 
I stood before the sacred sward 

That marked the grave of William Burnes. 
The father of the poet he, 

In quiet grooves his race was run, 
Who all his lifetime proved to be 

A worthy sire for such a son. 

Syne doon the road that leads to Ayr, 

I saunter 'd till I reached the spot, 
Whaur some sev'n-score o' years and mair. 

The bard began his lowly lot. 
The Cottage noo looks trig and clean, 

The wa's are soun', the thack's the same, 
And a' the grass aroun' as green 

As Robin's everlasting fame. 

I wander 'd thro' the but and ben, 

And view'd the fixtures auld and worn; 

I saw within the farrer en' 

The very bed whaur Burns was born. 



408 HEEE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Yes, there he utter 'd first the cry- 
That later so enrich 'd our lore, 

A voice that was not born to die 

Till Scotland 's self shall be no more ! 

Ah, Robert Burns, now Scotia's pride, 

How sad, how tragic, was your fate, 
To have to lay your harp aside 

Before your years were thirty-eight! 
Had you been spared, as well you might, 

To reach the three-score years and ten, 
How much that never saw the light 

We might have gather 'd from your pen! 

But sad reflections are in vain; 

Within the tomb his faults should rest ; 
We'll not divorce him from his strain, 

Nor judge his work but by his best. 
Were he alive and with us now, 

How should we strive to pay our debt ? 
The laurel wreath upon his brow, 

And all he wished for he would get ! 

Here first the poet found his wings, 

And all around on either, hand, 
His genius touching common things 

Has made of Ayr a hallow 'd land. 
For all the world a pilgrim shrine, 

Revered alike by rich and poor, 
Its title true, because divine, 

And to the end of time secure ! 



THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 

No matter where the pilgrim turns 
The name of names is Robert Burns. 

Dumfries, sang W. Stewart Ross, "is the grandest 
city of the world for it has Burns 's grave." Long 
before, William McDowall wrote: 

" Fair Dumfries, rare Dumfries, forever dear to me : 
Ui burgh-touns the pick and wale, the bonniest place I see." 

The Royal Burgh has the flavor of antiquity all about 
it, and the name of Burns stamped everywhere. A fine 
Burns statue unveiled April 6, 1882, occupies the central 
square. The "loved Nith" of the poet divides Dum- 
fries from Maxwelltown 's braes on the Galloway side, 
as bonny as the trysting place of Annie Laurie, though 
not, as some have believed, the locality of that deathless 
song. 

After reading for a lifetime about Burns, it gives one 
a strange feeling to be at last among the places he 
frequented. They are so different from what fancy 
had painted them, and yet much remains of the poet's 
gilding. Walking through the streets of Dumfries, and 
minutely examining the leading howffs, haunts and 
homes of Burns, we forget that a hundred years and 
more have elapsed since he was here. We conjure him 
up in imagination, and often find ourselves expectantly 
watching a corner in hope that he may come striding 
round it, and give us a chance to ask the hundred and 
one questions that no biographer has ever answered. 

Of course our first visits are to the two dwelling- 
houses he occupied here,— the first on Bank Street,* 

* When in Dumfries I made the acquaintance of many of the leading 
citizens, and much enjoyed the company of the editors of the two news- 
papers — Mr. Ballantyne of The Herald, and Mr. Watson of The Stand- 

409 



410 HEBE AND THEEE IE" TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

where he moved from Ellisland in 1791 and the second 
in Burns Street, where he dwelt from 1793 until his 
death in 1796. All the space he and his family had in 
the Bank Street house was the second story or floor, 
divided into three small rooms. The middle apartment 
was his study. It was about big enough to hold a bed. 
There were tenants above and below the Burns family. 
The Burnses must have keenly felt the change from the 
freedom of the farm ; most of all the wife and children, 
who were compelled to be there ; the poet himself being 
out on Excise duty, or musing by the Nith, or with his 
friends the greater part of the time. No wonder Jean 
grumbled and scolded, as he himself has told us. It 
must have been a mean house in Burns 's day: it is a 
mean house still. The old lady who now owns it will 
keep you downstairs where Syme's stamp office was, 
if you do not insist on seeing the poet's quarters. It 
is impossible to look at the cramped, dark rooms with- 
out a shudder, when one remembers that this habitation 
was for so long the cage of our greatest song bird. 
What matchless lyrics were born here !* In imagination 

ard. The former is an Aberdonian and the latter "native, and to the 
manner born." Mr. Watson is second to none in his knowledge of 
everything pertaining to his illustrious townsman, and being himself a 
poet can better appreciate the artistic side of Burns than most of his 
eritics. In Mr. Watson's office I saw a fine letter in Carlyle's own 
handwriting, penned by the Ecclefechan scholar during the Dumfries 
cholera epidemic. Among many good sentiments he said: "I do not 
participate in the panic. We were close beside cholera for many weeks 
in London; 'every ball has its billet.' . . . Your days and the days of 
those dear to you, are now, as before and always, in the hands of God 
only; from whom it is vain to fly; towards whom lies — the only refuge 
of man. Death's thousand doors have ever stood open; this indeed 
is a wide one, yet it leads no farther than they all lead." 

* It was in this hole that he wrote " Ae Fond Kiss " containing the 
deathless lines: 

" Had we never loved so kindly, 
Had we never loved so blindly, 
Never met — or never parted, 
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." 



THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 411 

we can see the handsome poet "lucubrating" as he 
balances himself on the hindlegs of his favorite elbow- 
chair, the bairns running out and in, and "Bonnie 
Jean," perhaps with her sewing by his side. 

The second move in Dumfries to the house in Mill- 
Hole Brae, now called Burns Street, was a flitting for 
the better. It was self-contained and had two floors 
with an attic. The poet's study was in the garret, and 
in size was just nine feet square, but had much more 
exclusiveness than the Bank Street chamber. The 
bed-room where Burns died was the smaller one in the 
second story. The house is to-day pretty much as it 
was when Burns resided in it, and within the past few 
weeks has been put on a better public basis, as befits 
such a shrine. 

It would be tedious to run over the names of the 
various Dumfries inns which have each some connection 
with the bard. I visited them all— saw the relics that 
were to be seen, handled as many of them as permitted, 
and like most travellers had drinks from the cups and 
mugs and quechs that were said to have been used by 
the famous exciseman. The "Globe Hotel" had the 
strangest fascination for me as it was unquestionably 
Burns 's favorite "howff." The tables and chairs that 
adorned the upper parlor in Eobbie 's day are still to be 
seen there ; but now carefully preserved and reserved. 
I saw the lines scratched on the window panes by the 
great minstrel to "lovely Polly Stewart," and when 
looking at them remembered that this also was the home 

To hear Madame Annie Grey sing this song to the original Gaelic 
air that suggested it, we can well believe Burns's saying, that it was 
' the wail of a broken heart.' Here also Burns wrote his grandest 
" Highland Mary " song, beginning " Ye banks and braes and streams 
around the Castle o' Montgomery." There is hardly a true rhyme in 
all the four stanzas, and yet no jar is noticed, the pathos, the tender- 
ness and the sadness of the sentiments being so overwhelming as to hide 
either rhythmic harshness or verbal discordance. " Duncan Gray " and 
" Galla Water " were two other first favorites written in this residence. 



412 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

of "Anna wi' the gowden locks.' ' As a result of Burns 's 
admiration for her I have among my autographs a letter 
from Mrs. Thomson of Pollokshaws, who was Elizabeth 
Burns, the daughter of the poet by this same Anne 
Park. She was a niece of Mrs. Hyslop, the landlady of 
the Globe Tavern. Burns considered his lyric on her— 
"The gowden locks of Anna"— the best love song he 
ever composed, but it was too warm for general circula- 
tion in the poet's time, although now well known to all 
Burns students. In discussing the surroundings of The 
Globe Inn with the present proprietor she showed me 
the route taken by Burns when he made his way home, 
after a prolonged sitting with his boon companions— 
through the close to Shakespeare Street passing on his 
way the unlucky stone-steps where tradition says he fell 
one wintry night, and slept until early morning after 
having contracted the unfortunate illness that was the 
beginning of his end. But the same kind of a tale is 
fathered on other poets with minor differences, so that 
we must not be too hasty in accepting the Burns legend. 
I rather prefer to dwell on the testimony of Mrs. Burns, 
and she has assured us that while the poet was of a con- 
vivial nature he was not a sottish drunkard, and no mat- 
ter whether he reached home early or late he was always 
fit to close up the house and see that the children were 
comfortably cuddled doon. 

In this Burns Street house he wrote about a hun- 
dred songs, including such masterpieces as "Afton 
Water," "Scots Wha Hae," "A Man's a Man for a' 
that" and "Auld Lang Syne." To the very last his 
lyric genius retained its finest quality. On his death 
bed he evolved one of his tenderest couplets : 

"Sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, 
And soft as their parting tear." 

The last conscious melody that floated through his brain 



THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 413 

was the half joyous half pathetic, haunting tune of 
* i Kothiemurchie, ' ' to which he wrote the fragment 
"Fairest maid on Devon's banks." This was at Brow 
on the Solway Firth, and three weeks later all was over.* 

* My contribution to the Burns Death Centenary was the following 
song to the same air, written July 12, 1896 — exactly one hundred years 
after Burns wrote his last lyric: 

Burns Centenary Song. 

(Tune — " Rothiemurchie " or " Lnssie wi' the Lint-white Locks.") 

A hundred years hae come and gane 
Since Burns, oppress'd wi' care and pain, 
By Solway sang his parting strain, 
The last that he was e'er to do: 
Chanting to the Ocean's croon, 

Ranting Robin, rhyming Robin 
Hummed his hinmost Scottish tune 
The seal o' death upon his broo. 

His gloomy leisure to beguile, 
And brush awa' his woes awhile, 
He ventured in his auld-time style 

The Doric Muse aince mair to woo: 
Singing with his wonted fire, 
For a moment he was happy, 
Bringing from his soothing lyre 
A ditty tender, sweet and true. 

By sunny recollections sway'd 
Again on Devon's banks he stray'd, 
And wi' his waning strength essay'd 
A posie for his love to pu'; 
And the charming, tender lilt, 

Halflins gentle, halflins chiding, 
He on ' Rothiemurchie ' built, 
He is nae Scot that doesna lo'e. 

0, wha but reads maun surely see 
He meant the little song to be 
His last appeal and final plea 

To a' that should his life review: 
Dinna credit a' the blame, 

Aft in vaunting, aft in malice, 
Put upon the poet's name 

By scandal-mongers auld and new. 

28 



414 HEEE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"From his last residence it is but a short walk to his 
Mausoleum, an imposing tomb in the form of a Gre- 
cian temple, tastefully ornamented and well cared for. 
Turnerelli's sculptured marble design makes a strik- 
ing contrast to the plain original head-stone (erected 
by the poet's widow) and now most fittingly preserved 
in the mausoleum. All around are seen monuments 
erected to the memory of Burns 's friends and acquaint- 
ances, whose names are familiar to us from his writings. 
Not even Shakespeare's home and grave attract so 
many pilgrims as pay their devotions to the last resi- 
dence and tomb of Burns. 

Not all Valhalla's vaunted halls 

Can ever in importance vie 
With humble Bank Street's lowly walls 

That saw the Scottish Laureate die. 



It was the Minstrel's Last Good-Nicht, 
The closing, brief, poetic flicht; 
Alas, that wi' his gifts sae bricht, 
So soon to fate he had to boo: 
Caledonia's sweetest bard, 
O, the pity — pity of it, 
Slept within Dumfries Kirkyard 
Afore the month was fairly thro'! 

Pathetic was the final scene: 
Beside his bairns and faithful Jean 
At hame he closed his weary een, 
And paid the debt to Nature due: 
Dead sae long afore his time — 

Think upon it — think upon it; 
Dead sae long afore his prime 

His lot sae hard, his years so few! 

But, by the brilliance of his line, 
Adorned with Poesy Divine, 
His fame will live and brightly shine 
As lang as o'er us bends the blue: 
Dearer name will Scotia show 
Never — never — never — never ; 
Loved a century ago 

It's mair than ever worshipp'd noo! 



THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 415 

Not Abbey nor Cathedral bust 

Of Britain's proudest, grandest names 

Can draw more homage than the dust 
That old St. Michael's graveyard claims. 

It was pleasant to turn from the dead to the living, 
and intensely interesting when the living were the 
nearest lineal descendants of the great bard. The eldest 
child of the poet was Robert Burns the Second. He was 
affectionately styled "the Laird," and several songs 
and versicles by him are in existence, showing he had 
inherited something of his father's genius. His oldest 
son was also named Robert. He became a schoolmaster 
and by a strange coincidence married a Mary Campbell, 
which, as all the world knows, was the name of the great 
Burns 's "Highland Mary." Robert second also had a 
daughter Jane who married Mr. Thomas Brown, and it 
was the Browns I visited. Mr. and Mrs. Brown are 
well advanced in years, but still able to move about. I 
had known of them for a long time and was particularly 
anxious to meet them. My good friend Wm. R. Smith, 

of Washington, D. C.,— 

to whom our country turns 
For what is best in botany and what is best in Burns- 
had more than once excited my interest in the Browns, 
and I found the affection he had for them was warmly 
reciprocated. I saw them several times, and I think 
my visits to them must rank among the choicest of my 
Burns experiences. Mr. Brown is a good sensible talker 
and I grew to like him very much. Mrs. Brown, the 
poet's granddaughter, captured my heart at once from 
her close resemblance to my aunt, Mrs. Watt of Lums- 
den,— the "Ma" of my childhood and only mother I 
ever had.* The third and last member of the Brown 



* Alas and alas! — after all her patient waiting to see me she died 
while I was on my way across the Atlantic, and was buried beside my 
mother in Kildrummy Kirkyard the day I landed at Glasgow. My 



416 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

family— Jean Armour Burns Brown enjoys the distinc- 
tion of more closely resembling the Nasmyth painting 
of her illustrious great-grandfather than any other liv- 
ing representative. I felt as if Burns himself looked 
through her glorious eyes. "What fine talks we had to- 
gether! What a lot I picked up I had never known 
before! I had tea with them and a dram from the 
poet's glass and decanter; saw many priceless family 
relics, and— best treat yet— we had a Burns concert all 
to ourselves with the poet's choicest songs inimitably 
rendered by his own flesh and blood. Mrs. Brown has 
a sweet and pure voice, and even yet can sing with much 
spirit. She rendered alone with fine feeling "A' the 
airts the Win ' can blaw, ' ' " Bonnie Mary o ' Argyle, ' ' 
and a rollicking Irish song, also accompanying her 
daughter in "My Nannie's Awa' " (a delicate compli- 
ment to myself —since my Nannie— Mrs. Law— was not 
present). Jeanie sang with fine dash and voice "A 
Man's a Man for a' that," "Green grow the Bashes" 
(at my request), "The Auld Scots Sangs" (a Phila- 
delphia song by Rev. Dr. Bethune), and the inimitable 
"Willie brew'd a peck o' Maut." Her mother good 
naturedly protested a little at the selections, some 
of which I admit are more suited for a male than a fe- 
male voice, but we conducted things all our own way, 
and carried through our program. When it came to 
"John Anderson, my Jo" and "Auld Lang Syne" 
we had the male voices and the female too. If Jean 
Armour Burns Brown could be persuaded to come 
out as a public concert singer, I am sure she would only 
need one tour around the world to be able to retire with 
a competence. But she has refused more than one good 
offer to go before the public in this way. 

unele, John Law, had also been taken in the May previous so that my 
brightest hopes for my holiday at home were cruelly shattered when 
almost reaching realization. 



THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 417 

Since I was in Dumfries the Browns have moved into 
the Burns house where the poet died, and will be life- 
tenants in return for taking care of it. The intention 
of Dumfries City is to make the place a Burns Museum, 
and no better or more appropriate move could have been 
made than in placing the Browns at the head of it, nor 
a change more likely to please locally and generally. It 
will also bring the Browns into better contact with the 
Burns pilgrims from over the world, so should be bene- 
ficial all around.* 

There is an interesting collection of Burns relics at 
the Maxwelltown Observatory,! which also contains rel- 
ics of John Paul Jones, a native of this district; some 
fine pieces of sculpture; old coins and bells; and I 
looked through curiously stained glass windows that 
perfectly represented the scenery as it would appear by 
sunlight or by moonlight, and in the golden summer 
time or on a bleak wintry day. 

* On being asked to add something to Miss Brown's autograph album 
I wrote the following impromptu: 

The Bard o' Ayr, my bonnie Jean, 

I've followed lang thro' mony turns 
But feel I've never nearer been 

Than I am noo to Robert Burns. 
And here upon the Banks o' Nith 

Wi' thochts o' him that's far awa' 
I'm pleased to credit Willie Smith 

For this rare treat to — 
October 28, 1902. Jamie Law. 

I am sure neither Robert Burns nor Jean Armour would have been 
displeased to note that " Uncle William " of Washington, was grate- 
fully remembered in my musings, even if the Nith had failed, to suggest 
his loved and honored name. 

f There, too, I saw the finest specimen of a camera obscura that I 
had yet come across. It is better than the one in Professor Geddes's 
Tower, Edinburgh. The camera obscura is a fascinating and instructive 
— what shall I call it? — implement, instrument or toy? — that might 
well be — and doubtless profitably — introduced into America. It pro- 
vides an ever-varying picture-gallery which far surpasses the work of the 



418 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Dumfries has many points of interest besides the 
Burns associations, the most notable being The Old 
Bridge, originally built by Lady Devorgilla, mother of 
John Baliol; Comyn 's Court, marking the site of the 
Greyfriar's Monastery where King Robert Bruce slew 
the Red Comyn, finally resulting in Scotland's indepen- 
dence ;* the Town Hallf which has hanging on its walls 
the famous "Siller Gun" presented to the Trades by 

greatest artists, — old masters or modern experts — for who can paint like 
nature ? In a darkened room, on a smooth white table easy to look at, the 
whole surrounding country can be reproduced in sections showing every- 
thing in natural colors, and at rest or in motion with nothing of the 
irritating vibration and shimmering and noisiness of the cinematograph. 
With such an instrument well located in our city or in any city in the 
United States every street and alley and square could be reproduced and 
all the life that they contain, without the fatigue or expense of visiting 
but the one place. What a boon, for instance, it would be to retire into 
a cool chamber in New York and away from all the heat, bustle, and 
excitement quietly view a yacht race or a big parade, or even the normal 
stir and traffic of an ordinary day! I think this is a tip worth the 
serious consideration of any one looking for a sure and pleasing money 
maker. Chaps me Washington! 

* Dr. Arthur Johnston, the eminent Latin poet, has a beautiful 
reference to this incident: 

" Here Comyn false who sold the realm 

And came to share the spoil 
Fell by the dirk of valiant Bruce 

To stain the hallowed soil. 
Scotland! of all thy famous shrines 

Let one be dear to thee — 
Dumfries! which bore that priceless fruit, 

The deed that made thee free." 

Johnston was born in 1587 and died in 1631. He was a native of 
Caskieben, Aberdeenshire, his mother being a Forbes of Drumminor 
Castle. Among other honors he held the post of Physician-in-Ordinary 
to Charles I., just as another Aberdeenshire man, Sir James Reid, of 
Ellon, is to-day Physician-in-Ordinary to King Edward. 

t Joseph J. Glover, Esq., is the present worthy mayor of Dumfries. 
He is a most intelligent Burns scholar and has some orations to his 
credit that rank among the best. When in office he sits in a chair that 
is adorned with a rare bas-relief carving of the Archangel Michael who 
is the tutelary guardian of Dumfries. The artist's conception of a 
saint or angel is worth careful examination. 



THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 419 

King James VI. ; one of the first savings banks in Scot- 
land started by Rev. Dr. Henry Duncan of Ruthwell, a 
good Scottish poet and the originator of savings banks ; 
the Dumfries academy where Barrie the novelist was 
educated; and the King's Arms Hotel with Prince 
Charles's Room. In the way of trade the leading in- 
dustries are the manufacture of tweeds, hosiery, leather 
and confections. There are also a couple of iron 
foundries. 

One of the latest valuable additions to Dumfries is 
the Ewart Free Library, presented by Andrew Car- 
negie, and named in honor of the author of the Free 
Libraries Act, Mr. Wm. Ewart, M.P., for Dumfries 
Burghs. Mr. Carnegie has also been heard from in 
connection with Burns descendants, as it is reported he 
has agreed to settle an annuity on Mrs. Brown (now in 
Burns House, Dumfries), the granddaughter of the 
Poet. 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 

Bus in Urbe. 

Let other poets in their rhymes 
Imbued with tastes of distant times 
Delight to sing of foreign climes 

And fabled commonweals : 
Be mine the task with honors due 
To try to sketch in colors true 
The varied and the lovely view 

My balcony reveals. 

No Highland bard from Hill of Ord, 
Not Barbour pent in Bon-Accord, 
Nor Walter Scott at Abbotsford 

E'er saw a rarer scene; 
The country blending with the town, 
As fair in fact as in renown, — 
The gem of Pennsylvania's crown 

Is in the rich demesne! 

A castle* looms in lordly style 
Beside a fort'sf embattl'd pile, 
And barns and houses, mile on mile, 

In red and white array 'd, 
Seem sailing onwards with the trees, 
Like painted yachts on summer seas, 
Till wafted skywards with the breeze 

In fleecy clouds they fade. 

The pleasing plots of varied shape, 
Now here a gulf, now there a cape; 
The drooping boughs that seem to drape 
The islets strewn around; 



* The County-House. 
fThe Prison. 



420 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 421. 

A road transfigured to a brook, 
With many a winding curve and crook, 
Make shining knoll and shady nook 
Like fairy-haunted ground! 

The gorgeous tints that may be seen 
From golden brown to glossy green 
And all the tones that intervene 

Beneath the vault of blue,— 
What artist e'er could hope to catch 
The secret of their charm, or snatch 
With human hand the dyes to match 

Each lovely changing hue ! 

The gentle Conestoga stream 
Of all our waters here supreme 
Has hid itself in hope to dream 

Unnoticed to the bay; 
And with no grating sound to mar, 
But as an echo faint and far, 
The distant train or trolley-car 

Glides smoothly on its way. 

And when the moon in early night 
Hangs out her shield of silver bright 
Reflecting o'er the land a light 

Exhaling dew like balm 
The sultry day though e'er so hot 
Recedes and is remembered not, 
Life's vexing cares are all forgot 

So soothing is the calm. 

O, favor 'd spot beyond compare 
Where common folks are free to fare 
On wealth for which the millionaire 

Is doomed afar to roam! 
Who would not surely grateful be 
In no minute or scant degree 
So exquisite a show to see 

Beside their doors— at home! 
Julv, 1003. 



422 here and there in two hemispheres. 

View from " Bleak House." 
The mountains rising on the left where observation 
ended by some manipulation deft seemed with the azure 
blended. The nearer ranges in their swell like waves 
upon the ocean, as shadows o 'er them rose and fell, ap- 
peared to be in motion; and through the haze, as in a 
dream, with smoky pennons trailing, we saw the white- 
washed houses gleam like stately vessels sailing. 

By Susquehanna's Side. 
Who cares to visit Chickie 's Rock 
May gaze upon a sight to mock 
The finest scenes from Nature's hand 
In any clime or any land : — 
Where water, islands, rocks and trees 
Caress 'd by sun and kissed by breeze 
And fields of fresh and dazzling green, 
With spots of darker soil between, 
In shape arrangement and in hue 
Combine to make a matchless view ! 

"Pennsylvania's Pride." 
The Garden Spot of all the State unequalled for its 
farms, its handsome buildings, splendid stock and other 
rural charms ; in Agriculture 's widest range without a 
par or peer,— the very first upon the list where'er you 
care to steer;— so brilliant, and so big a gem that it 
was doubtless planned to be the flawless Koh-i'-noor to 
place on Nature 's hand ! 

The Conestoga River. 

[O, Conestoga, languid stream, 

Howe'er my muse may smile on me, 
When you I make my willing theme, 

This favor let me ask of thee: 
Shine through my lay like golden ore 

That not a verse but may proclaim 
And show how dearly I adore 

And love thy sweet poetic name. 
And then I'll know — since thou art there 
Each stanza must have something fair.] 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 423 

How sweet it is, when gloaming tide 

Concludes a sultry summer's day, 
By some cool water's shaded side 

With loved ones, young or old, to stray! 

And where did any eye survey 
A landscape matching scene on scene 

"Where Conestoga winds its way 
Betwixt its trees and meadows green? 
0, lovely Conestoga! 

What curves and coves, what bays and bends, 

What nooks and niches not a few! 
The rugged with the gentle blends 

Where'er the path we may pursue. 

For rare variety of view 
No streams with vaunted classic names 

Within the Old World or the New 
Surpass the Conestoga 's claims- 
Unrivalled Conestoga! 

Not Turner's noted Crook of Lune, 

Nor Byron's wide and winding Rhine; 
Not Burns 's banks o' bonny Doon 

Nor. boasted Tweed, nor lauded Tyne; 

Not Delaware nor Brandywine 
Nor Spey, nor Tay, nor Don nor Dee 

Nor Shakespeare's Avon still more fine 
E'er seemed so beautiful to me— 
As tranquil Conestoga! 

The bard who looks for castled crags 

May find them here, and ruins old 
As fine as any country brags 

The Conestoga 's banks uphold! 

Yea, could the poet's muse unfold 
The secrets of each rock and dell 

And bygone haunts of Indians bold, 
What lays and legends might he tell !— 
Romantic Conestoga! 



424 HEEE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHEEES. 

And best of all— and always best— 

The chief of Conestoga's charms: 
"Without an equal, east or west — 

Her big and little fields and farms ! 

They shine like jewels on her arms ! 
Fine thriving stock and rich estates, 

Exempt from all the rude alarms 
That perch upon the merchant's gates! — 
Consoling Conestoga! 

0, wearied folks in city pent 
Seek Conestoga's beauties soon; 

Before the finest days are spent 
With Nature for a space commune 
And there, while birds will lilt a tune 

To match the crooning water's fall 
Be grateful that so rare a boon 

Is near you here and free to all — 

Consummate Conestoga ! 

July, 1903. 

How lovely Conestoga is, 
To whatsoe'er analysis 
The scrutinizing critic brings ! 
And verses in its praise are nil 
Or at their best seem poor and chill 
Contrasted with the mellow glow 
The halo of romance it flings 
As fed by cloud and creek and rill 
It passes in its stately flow 
By city, village, farm and mill 
Until its current, soft and slow, 
Is falsely lured,* unkindly led 
And roughly scattered to and fro 
In Susquehanna's rocky bed! 
And choicest stretch of all to me 
In Conestoga's checker 'd course 
I count the scenes that one may see 
(And seeing must in truth endorse) 



* Near Safe Harbor. 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 425 

Within a mile or maybe more 

Above and underneath the bridge 

That safely brings the trolleys o'er 

From Ann Street to the wooded ridge 

That terminates in Rocky Springs. 

Ah, there the finest sights begin 

The Conestoga's sweep within! 

As gracefully it sways and swings 

Along its channel broad and deep 

Its farthest shores from edge to crest 

Reflected from its glassy breast 

Without a tremor or a break, 

As from a quiet Highland lake 

I've seen the sky and mountains peep; 

With here and there, across a dam 

Or. stony clump or brushwood jam 

A giant jump or little leap ; 

As if to tell what it could do 

If cataracts were needed too; 

Or if to show what savage teeth 

It has behind its smile when toused, 

What angry passions lurked beneath 

Its tranquil bosom when aroused ! 

Then on it slides with easy sweep 

Where busy streets and pavements gleam 

As calm as if it were asleep 

Yet ever in its deepest dream 

Its guardian city's guardian stream, 

Consoling with affection true 

The living as it passes on, 

And after they are dead and gone 

Its music as it wimples through, 

Becomes their mournful last adieu ! 

0, softly may its water creep 

Forever watch and ward to keep 

With soothing touch and loving skill 

So smoothly spread, so hushed, and still 

By silent Woodward Hill ! 



426 HEEB AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

After the storm and stress and strife 
That makes so much of human life, 
How sweet to gain the blest release 
That must be found in perfect peace, 
And who will question doubly so 
If one could for a surety know, 
A stream like Conestoga's tide 
Would with unruffled current glide 
Beside one's grave a dirge to sing 
Through summer, autumn, winter, spring 
The requiem repeating o'er 
Till time itself should be no more ! 

Like an Aladdin Fairy Tale. 
A two-story brick Dwelling House built and com- 
pleted inside and out in ten hours and a half. 

When I revisited Scotland one of the difficulties I found in conver- 
sation was to convince my friends of the bigness of America in almost 
every particular; — not in any boastful way, but as a sober statement 
of facts. They could hardly forgive me when I said that all the lakes, 
lochs, rivers and burns of Scotland could be turned into one of the 
American rivers and not show a perceptible rise; that Scotland, Eng- 
land and Ireland could be dumped into a corner of one of the counties 
of one of our States and leave plenty of space to spare; that one could 
travel night and day on the train for almost a week before crossing 
the States directly from coast to coast; and other little items of a sim- 
ilar nature that were all as true as the multiplication table. But the 
thing that riled them most was the story of the Quickly Built House. 
It was always set down as a " Yankee Yarn," and yet every word of 
it is the plain, bare truth. As it may interest others I note it here; 
my data being procured from the current files of the local newspapers 
and from interviews with many Lancastrians who witnessed the feat, 
including also the report of my neighbor, Mr. P. Henry Leonard, who 
was one of the 100 workmen employed on the building, and not only 
gave me all details, but kindly showed me photographs of the house 
taken every hour from commencement to completion. 

On August 1, 1873, a "Dr." Benjamin Misshler (of 
"bitters" fame) actually had a house erected on the 
east side of South Prince Street, Lancaster, Pa., U. S. 
A., within ten and a half hours. It was to be a two- 
story and attic brick, 20 x 30 feet, with, eight rooms, and 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 427 

a tinned roof. In the morning at six o 'clock not a brick 
had been laid. At 6:30 P. M. same day the building 
was completed, exterior and interior, a tenant had 
moved into it and, with furniture, etc., all in place, sup- 
per was served in the new home! The house still 
stands, is occupied, has been occupied continually since 
its erection, and will to-day compare favorably with any 
of its type in our city. There was nothing skimped, as 
might be supposed; partitions, lathing, plastering, 
painting, glazing and everything else being finished in 
a satisfactory manner. As an instance of how the 
workmen hustled it is recorded that five tin-smiths laid 
800 square feet of tin in an hour and a half. The con- 
struction of the house was witnessed by thousands of 
people and it required an extra force of police to keep 
the crowds from interfering with the workmen. Think 
of it, ye British contractors!— A complete, eight-room 
brick house in considerably less than a round of the 
clock ! ! Any one on the outlook for a really good ad- 
vertisement may secure it by beating this record. 

A May-Day Picture. 
In sunny meadows fair to see 
The flocks and herds held jubilee; 
The dandelions all around 
Like double-eagles filled the ground, 
And from the whizzing trolley-ears 
"Were seen the rural Queens and Stars; — 
Some plump as Falstaff, some as quaint 
As West or Fulton e'er could paint; — 
Maneests and Dunkards, young and old, 
And Amish, with the few enroll'd 
Whose Seats in happy realms enskied 
Already from the earth are spied; — 
The cause perhaps of why they walk 
With such a gloomy garb and talk 



428 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

And why such heights and depths they preach 
That common Christians never reach. 
For to the people known as plain 
All other creeds alike are vain 

Leaves from a Thon-ian Diary. 

A native Lancastrian author, almost equal in his prose to " Euse- 
bius the euphonious " in verse, was the entertaining Squire Charles 
Thon. Were I a believer in Spiritualism I should certainly conclude 
that the old diarist was behind the pen in the following paragraphs 
that it has been my luck to secure for my pages: 

"Bejuvenation in Advanced Age." 

"As I never saw, heard or read of such a thing before I 
make a note hereof, to wit: Major Slaymaker and John R. 
Eussel are the two persons I have reference to, both being, as 
must be so, nearly 180 years old — when added, one to the 
other. The Major, to my utmost surprise, conversed with me 
most dexterously, and his talk was very instructive to the 
rising generation, hence my report thereof. He had the 
graciousness to inform me, as we stood in East King street, 
while the sun beat perpendicularly down upon us, which the 
vivacious veteran evidently regarded not, that when a child 
he was fondled or dandled by General Lafayette, who was 
then visiting the city of Lancaster, and the paternal parent 
of the now Major being a committee-man for the reception of 
the afore-named General the babe Slaymaker was thus 
(happily) singled out and honored and may be seen to this 
day. The Major looks as if he could leap a five-rail post 
fence. His pedestrian movements were not even assisted by 
home-made crutches or fancy cane. 

' ' In corporal construction my old friend Mr. Russel is much 
bigger than the Major, and his intellectual faculties are 
equally well preserved. I discovered him in his comfortable 
domicile on North Queen street, deftly engaged in manipulat- 
ing the Bell telephone. Through strict obedience to his par- 
ent 's mandates J. R. R. has attained to his patriarchal age and 
is able to express his views in few words without any other 
agency than that of sharp intellect, uninfluenced by fear, 
friendship or favor. He told me that when a little youth his 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 429 

Scotch instructor, Duncan McNabb MacGregor, who was ever 
most punctilious in deportment and affairs of suavity, one day 
approached him and in hushed tones announced that General 
Lafayette and his military cavalcade would that afternoon 
pass by or near to, the school, and that all the scholars thereof 
must salute the great hero and military friend of our. beloved 
Commander-in-Chief, who was often in communion with the 
great Father of us all, which they all did accordingly in due 
time, as was most faithfully planned by the said MacGregor 
for the dear little ones. And how the gallant Frenchman 
rode magnificently past, but not haughtily or vain-gloriously, 
and was decorously honored of the trembling scholars, by the 
bowing of their knees, and the lifting of their little caps, as 
our worthy citizen K-ussel is alive to testify to this day, the 
whole being done so nimbly and yet so staidly that I know 
not where other such dignified gymnastical exertions may be 
read about. Citizen Russel shows yet no impediment in per- 
ambulatory tasks, albeit for over fifty years he has been at 
sundry and diverse times vexed by pedal pains solely confined 
to his soles, yet ever borne with Democratic patience, and for 
the preponderating part in dignified silence." 

"The Observance of Labor-Day. 
"September 7, 1903. Weather clear. A perfect day. This 
forenoon from the curb-stone coigne of vantage opposite to 
the elegant mansion of John A. Coyle, Esq., wherein his 
worthy lady as I have been pertinently informed has a praise- 
worthy display of antique furniture of great value and rarity, 
unequalled, so I have seen it conscientiously stated, by any 
rariora collection in the museums of Dealers Barr or Steiger- 
walt of international fame, with my back to the ancient Caleb 
Cope mansion where Major Andre was once a prisoner, I wit- 
nessed to my great astonishment the Parade of Labor's hosts 
on this their allowed, set-apart and government-sanctioned 
holiday, namely: Hon. Paul Heine, on a proudly stepping 
$1,000 cake-walking war-horse, controlled all with the mechan- 
ism of clockwork, and proved a faithful functionary, and 
cynosure, which he met with all-becoming grace and gravity. 
There were also buglers with bugles and sashes that were loud 
29 



430 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and glaring. Wherever my eyes lit were banners of varie- 
gated hues, lettered with figures and devices like printed signs, 
embodying masterly mottoes chosen if not composed by the 
individual trades and professions, or "lodges" as they are 
oft-times designated. Policemen walked in front and seemed 
orderly and well behaved, without extra pay as I have been 
confidentially apprised. Many equine quadrupeds and teams 
were in the parade, some carrying ' ' floats ' ' that seemed to sail 
in the air, gaily decorated with floral contrivances, and others 
likewise with appliances and appurtenances of trade; to wit 
brick-making, and bakers exhibiting their labors before our 
eyes to the great delight thereof. My worthy and illustrious 
friend Mayor Cummings I beheld walking modestly with his 
comrades or typographical brethren, and rejoiced thereat 
much more than had he been espied as some I witnessed 
proudly lolling in open carriages and ignobly smoking vile 
cigars, the only blemish I wish to particularize on this event- 
ful day and most praiseworthy celebration."* 



* " Conversing afterwards with my neighbor on the philosophy of the 
spectacular display, to my amazement I found him to be permeated 
with ' Socialism/ and think fit to record his marvellous prophecy, 
which I now do faithfully, yet succinctly. Neighbor C.'s prophecy: 
' Labor is in the ascendant, and just as soon as it truly realizes its 
power it will control capital and dictate to capital what must be done 
at any and all times, and firmly too; retaliating for the bygone abuse 
and tyranny of cruel, rich, mean men. Not much to be expected from 
Labor Unions, as they have too many traitors and weaklings and have 
ever been purchasable at critical times, but they are commendable so 
far as they go, and a great advance. The world-wide movement called 
" Socialism " is the solution of all vexing problems, not only here but 
everywhere, and its progress, now most marked in the two hemispheres, 
will be accelerated with the rush of whirlwinds before the next four 
years are over our heads, insuring us a Socialist President and Gov- 
ernment in 1908.' To which I will append: The reign of Bossism 
and privilege seems nearing a termination, and if the venerable parties 
are not adapted to cope with impending problems, as before discussed, 
they must perish like Tyre and Sidon of old, or Sodom and Gomorrah, 
or Greece and Rome. May the revolutionary operations be accom- 
plished without the spilling of innocent blood, is my fervent prayer! " 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 431 

A Couple of Noted Collectors. 
The Steinman family is one of the oldest in Lancaster, and 
the name has been continuously conspicuous in local business 
circles for over four generations. Mr. George Steinman has 
been retired from active commercial life for some time, and in 
his leisure has built for himself a monument more durable 
than brass or stone. This memorial has taken the form of 
a book that probably could not be duplicated in America. 
In the period dating from 1774 to 1781 a gentleman by the 
name of Christopher Marshall kept a Diary. This was the 
stirring time of the American Revolution, when every day 
was making important history. Marshall began his notes in 
Philadelphia, but soon moved to Lancaster, and the house 
he occupied on East Orange street still stands, and is tenanted. 
Wm. Duane, Jr., edited "Extracts" from the Diary kept 
by the Philadelphia-Lancastrian— an intensely interesting vol- 
ume of about 300 octavo pages— and this book Mr. Steinman 
has expanded into four elephantine folios of over 1,200 pages, 
filled with the rarest portraits, scenes, autograph letters and 
other relics, illustrating the characters named and the events 
recorded by the faithful and gossipy diarist. For instance, 
one of the first gems to be noted is a fine specimen of the 
obnoxious stamp that raised all the colonial hubbub. 'Tis 
the real thing, and little, we imagine, did the designer dream, 
when he first " proof 'd" it, that it would be the immediate 
cause of such a Revolution! George Washington is repre- 
sented by many portraits, including not a few rare ones, and 
by several holograph letters, specially noting one or. two 
written in early life, and also a curious example where 
Washington held the pen for another man who was content to 
sign with an X mark. Local celebrities like George Ross, 
Jasper Yeates, Peter Miller, Caleb Cope, Parson Barton, 
General Hand, the Hubleys, the Shippens, the Atlees and the 
Muhlenbergs, all live again in Mr. Steinman 's sumptuous 
volumes. On one page may be seen the fat and fatuous 
George III. followed by a Government document with his sig- 
nature ; on another Patrick Henry 's well-known features 
facing an important letter by his own hand ; then examples of 
lottery tickets sold for such "pious purposes" as the building 



432 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

of churches; fine examples of two-shilling and ten-shilling 
notes ; and copies innumerable of Colonial proclamations, peti- 
tions, rules and regulations, descriptions and declarations re- 
lating to everything from the treatment of the British pris- 
oners in Lancaster jail to the specifications of male and 
female slaves. Many of the papers contain curious informa- 
tion not to be found in our. history-books. During the Amer- 
ican War the fathers of the Republic found valuable allies in 
the mistresses of the British generals. Some irreverent artist 
and publisher put the pictures of the leading soldiers and 
their ladies in a book, which was suppressed almost as soon 
as it appeared. Mr. Steinman, however, succeeded in secur- 
ing several pairs for his gallery, and there they are pilloried 
for all time, shedding light on a certain kind of "baggage" 
that is rarely absent from an army of conquest. Another 
interesting "exhibit" is the "bill of particulars" relating to 
the raising of one of Lancaster's church bells. It was evi- 
dently baptised with stronger liquor than aqua pura, and an 
amusing entry shows that a local wine-merchant paid his dona- 
tion "in kind"! The most of Mr. Steinman 's prints are 
contemporary pictures and portraits, and no place or. in- 
dividual of importance noted by Marshall has been overlooked. 
No wonder it took ten years to collect, and who knows what 
an amount of money! But it is a good investment as every 
day adds to its value. Mr. Steinman is well under way with 
a Grangerized copy of Ellis and Evans' "History of Lan- 
caster County, ' ' and has also made a commencement with Dr. 
Dubbs' recently published "History of Franklin and Mar- 
shall College." What more delightful hobby could any man 
have ? But in addition to time and money and infinite patience 
it takes superior knowledge to sift, glean, arrange and place 
such treasures so that we can only pray Mr. Steinman may 
long be spared with us as he is not likely to have many imi- 
tators in his chosen field, and, truly, more 's the pity ! 

Rev. Dr. Joseph H. Dubbs, Audenried Professor of History 
at Franklin and Marshall College, has long enjoyed enviable 
fame as a collector of "Americana "and of book-plates. He 
gathered together one of the finest lots of historical auto- 
graphs and documents made in our day, but disposed of this 



LANCASTER COUNTY VIGNETTES. 433 

collection some years ago. His book-plate treasures have been 
accumulating for a long time, but other more pressing matters 
have recently side-tracked his favorite hobby. Still, a man 
that has several thousand fine examples is no mean collector, 
and as Dr. Dubbs is fastidious and thoroughly posted on the 
subject in all its ramifications his specimens are of more than 
ordinary value. The oldest book-plate Dr. Dubbs has in his 
collection is a fine specimen of the work of Albrecht Durer, 
who flourished 1471-1528 and was the founder of the German 
School of Painting and Engraving, by some being regarded 
as the inventor of etching. The Durer book-plate in the Dubbs 
Collection was made for a Nuremberg Patrician, named Pirk- 
heimer, in the year 1521. The plates of many other leading 
German families are included, and Dr. Dubbs has also excellent 
examples of the French and Italian artists. His English 
book-plates begin with the Jacobean series, dating from the 
time of James VI and I. The Chippendale style is fully 
represented with its characteristic angels and garlands of 
flowers, while the "Ribbon and Wreath" series is shown 
complete. Among recent plates the work of Marks, R. A., 
has not a missing number, and there are many fine specimens 
of Sherborn's artistic creations, and in fact of all the leading 
modern engravers. American book-plates begin with those of 
Colonial times, and in this section the book-plates of Washing- 
ton, Lee, Harrison and other noted Virginian families are 
given the place of honor. Of old time Lancastrians I noticed 
the book-plates of Judge Atlee and Stephen Chambers. A 
good son of Lancaster has long made a hobby of designing 
as well as collecting book-plates, and now ranks among the 
leading American artists and authorities in that line. This 
is Dr. D. McN. Stauffer, one of the editors and proprietors of 
the New York ' ' Engineering News. ' ' Dr. Dubbs can show no 
less than twenty-one specimens of Stauffer 's art, the interest 
in them being greatly enhanced from the fact that they are 
all book-plates made for local men. This is a most creditable 
corner for Lancaster, and a complimentary showing all around. 
Dr. Dubbs' entire list is of high quality, without any padding 
merely to swell the numbers, so that it can be safely said his 
Book-plate Collection is without many equals anywhere. 



A SCOTCH DE PEYSTEE. 

Readers of the Life and Works of Robert Burns will 
recall frequent references to Colonel de Peyster of 
Dumfries who was one of the poet's intimate friends. 
Burns addressed letters and Poems to him, and was a 
frequent visitor at de Peyster 's home. When the 
writer was in the Queen City of the South of Scotland 
last year he found much to interest him and to interest 
the Dumfriessians in connection with Colonel de Pey- 
ster, and the following extracts from the leading local 
paper will show in part what was accomplished per- 
taining both to Burns and to de Peyster and was con- 
sidered of sufficient importance to be copied by many 
of the Scottish newspapers. 

From the Dumfries and Galloway "Standaed," 
Nov. 1, 1902. 

An American de Peyster. 

"Our Honoured Colonel's" Illustrious 

Kinsman Across the Sea. 

On Wednesday afternoon we had a call from Mr. James 
D. Law, the well-known Scoto-American poet. Mr. Law has 
been resident in the States for over sixteen years, and is now 
with his wife and family on a visit to his native country. He 
is making a pilgrimage through the land of Burns, and Dum- 
fries in that and other respects possesses a special interest for 
him. He was at Ayr a few days ago, and left his impressions 
in a poem. It will appear in our next issue.* Mr. Law is 
very favorably impressed with Dumfries and its people, and 
has met and talked with a number of our most prominent 
townsmen, from the Provost down. His conversation is ani- 
mated and informing; and in the course of our interview he 
related some entertaining experiences of his own to illustrate 

* See page 407. 

434 




FREDERICK de PEYSTER. 

Born in New York, 1 1th November, 1796. Died at Rose Hill, Red Hook, N. Y., 17th August 1882 

At his death President of the N. Y. Historical Society, St. Nicholas Club and "probably 

connected as an active officer with more Social, Literary, and Benevolent 

Societies than any other New Yorker who ever lived." 



A SCOTCH DE PEYSTER. 435 

the easy accessibility of great men in the Republic. He thinks, 
for. a town of its size and importance, noting particularly its 
fine suburban features, Dumfries should "hurry up and instal 
a first-class tramway system." It is, he says, 'the rapid 
transit route to municipal development, and, at the same time, 
generally turns out to be a direct paying investment for a 
city. Dumfries, with every succeeding year, is sure to have 
a greater influx of transient visitors, and with better travel- 
ling facilities for the public, more and more people will be 
encouraged to come here, to the benefit of our shops, our 
hotels, and our citizens in general. ' He is specially delighted 
with a visit paid to the family of Mr. Brown, where he not 
only met Mrs. Brown, the granddaughter of our National 
Bard, and her daughter, Miss Jean Armour Burns Brown, 
but had the rare pleasure of hearing them both in splendid 
interpretations of some of the best of Burns 's immortal lyrics. 
Mr. Law was, as everybody is, particularly struck with Miss 
Brown 's close resemblance to the Naysmith portrait of Burns, 
and said he should have had no difficulty in noting the speak- 
ing likeness wherever he might have seen her. Mrs. Brown 
has a voice that is singularly pure and sweet even now, and 
her daughter is a fine natural Scotch singer, from the descrip- 
tions he has read, of the exact type of her immortal gr.eat- 
grandmother, "Bonnie Jean."* 

Incidentally, Mr. Law, while here, is looking up data relating 
to Colonel de Peyster, who, it will be remembered, was the 
commanding officer of the Dumfries Volunteers, of which com- 
pany Burns was not only a member, but the beloved poet- 
laureate. Mr. Law has handed over to Provost Glover, for 
the reference department of the Dumfries Public Library, 
two valuable volumes of de Peyster Papers, recently received 
direct from the editor, General John Watts de Peyster, of 
Tivoli, New York, U. S., America. General Watts de Peyster 
is the only child of Frederic de Peyster, who was one of the 
most prominent men in America of his time, and General J. 
W. de Peyster himself, now over eighty-two years of age, 
worthily upholds the splendid and honourable record of the 
two famous names he bears. He inherited one fortune from 



* See ''The Queen of the South," p. 415. 



436 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

his grandfather Watts, and another from his own estimable 
father, and few men have made better use of their, means and 
time in any country than General de Peyster has done. With 
every advantage that his position could bring, he is essentially 
a self-educated man. Of a strong military bias, a master of 
many languages, and with literary ability of the highest order, 
it is easy to understand why he takes leading rank as a 
military critic, military historian, and military biographer. 
In this field he is unquestionably without a peer in the United 
States, and equalled by few, if any, in Europe. His published 
works are actually numbered by the hundreds, and all are of 
the highest grade. We note as specially interesting to Scots- 
men that he has made an exhaustive study of "Mary Queen 
of Scots. ' ' The special library he accumulated on this topic 
alone numbered thousands of volumes, and was afterwards 
presented by him to Columbia College, New York. He is 
also a poet, novelist, and dramatist, with many important 
works to his credit. From universities he has received every 
title in their gift, many of his degrees being duplicated. He 
has been the recipient of a still rarer honour — the gold medal 
of the London Society of Science, Letters and Art, "for 
Scientific and Literary attainments." As an active soldier 
he rapidly compelled promotion after promotion for merit. 
He introduced many lasting reforms into the police system 
and military matters of his native State, and his good influ- 
ence has even been extended to national affairs. He is an 
active, honorary, and corresponding member of over fifty of 
the leading historical and literary societies of the United 
States and Canada, and life-member of the Royal Historical 
Society of Great Britain. He has been highly honored by 
civic, state, and national bodies too numerous to enumerate 
here. As a philanthropist and public benefactor his record 
is a glorious one. He has given away completely equipped 
libraries, churches and chapels (regardless of creed or sect), 
statues, halls, schools, and hospitals, with the most lavish pro- 
fusion, and his private benefactions have been innumerable. 
Personally he is more remarkable than his work, his sincerity 
of character shining through all his actions. Socially and 
innately a true gentleman, in every way worthy of the title, 




MARY JUSTINA WATTS. 

Youngest child and daughter of Hon. John Watts (2d) and Jane de Lancey. 

Bom 26th October 1 80 1 and died 28th July, 1821 in the City of New York. 

Mother of Gen. John Watts de Peyster. 



A SCOTCH DE PEYSTEPw 437 

General de Peyster is no ordinary man in his mental equip- 
ment ; and to us in Dumfries, where the name of de Peyster 
has so long been honoured and esteemed, it is a special pleasure 
to present to our readers this brief and entirely inadequate 
sketch of one who bears a name beloved and revered by us all, 
and who is now, so far as we know, the only connecting link 
with the " honour. 'd Colonel" of our immortal Poet. 

Mr. Law paid a visit to Mavisgrove on Thursday, and felt 
well rewarded for the journey. This was the residence of 
Colonel de Peyster, and the home from which he was buried. 
'The mansion-house' (Mr. Law writes us) 'is beautifully situ- 
ated on the right bank of the Nith, in Kirkcudbrightshire, about 
two miles from Dumfries. It is a quaint looking house, well 
and substantially built, with all its rooms, some dozen or more, 
on the ground floor. There is near it a stable and coach-house, 
harness room, and coachman's cottage. The garden has a large 
conservatory, peach house, vineries, and gardener 's cottage. In 
all, there are about five acres of garden and surrounding poli- 
cies, and the Mavisgrove home farm extends to about seventy- 
five acres. With the slight addition of a new porch at the front 
door, Mavisgrove mansion is just as Colonel de Peyster left 
it, containing much of the quaint furniture especially made 
for it, and still snugly and handsomely filling its many cosy 
niches and corners. I found Miss Dods, the present tenant, 
at home, and spent a very enjoyable time going over the relics 
and visiting the various rooms. The library is rich in books 
of the eighteenth century, and without doubt many of the 
volumes have been handled by Burns, as he was a frequent 
guest at Colonel de Peyster 's home. An unpublished versified 
compliment by Burns to one of the M'Murdos was shown to 
me in one of the books. Many of the authors mentioned by 
Burns, and not listed in the printed accounts of his library, 
are here to be seen in excellent editions. There is a fine old 
desk and bookcase, surmounted by a green stuffed parrot in 
a glass case. "We have here the famous "Polly" that Lieu- 
tenant (afterwards General) Brock presented to Mrs. de 
Peyster. This bird's powers of speech and mimicry were 
almost beyond belief, and have been the theme of story and 
song from many pens. ' Some fine Indian relics Mr. Law was 



438 HEBE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

able to identify and describe to Miss Dods ; notably, the otter- 
skin tobacco pouch that was given to Colonel de Peyster by 
Wabashaw, the king of the Sioux. In this room also is the 
' Great Belt of the alliance formed by Colonel de Peyster and 
the North- West Indians for the security of trade.' Above 
the door is a fine set of Indian snow-shoes. In the hall are 
many good pictures of scenery ; but the most interesting pieces 
of art are two large oil paintings of Colonel de Peyster and 
his lady in their old age. The Colonel is shown in the full 
dress of his rank as Commandant of the Dumfries Volunteers. 
In a corner stands the silken banner, embroidered by Mrs. de 
Peyster, and presented to the regiment on one of their festive 
occasions, "when all hands adjourned to 'The King's Arms' 
to complete the celebration." Of all the relics the most in- 
teresting is undoubtedly the White Beaver Skin preserved in 
a glass frame, and bearing on the back the following inscrip- 
tion, all in the Colonel 's own handwriting : ' In the year 1777 
Mr. Joseph Ainse, the Indian interpreter at Mitchilimaekinack, 
informed Colonel de Peyster then Major to the King's Regi- 
ment and Commandant of that port, situated at the confluence 
of the Lakes Huron and Michigan, that an Indian had been 
seen standing for several days at the corner of the store-house, 
who had just informed him that he had been directed by a 
spirit in the form of an aruik-wabuscaw (white beaver), whilst 
slumbering in the great Beaver Island, to take his stand there 
and kill the Commandant as he passed ; but finding his heart 
failed to give the fatal blow he begged to be sent out of that 
part of the country, which the Commandant refused, but 
ordered him to go to the island and to fetch him the white 
beaver, which the Indian accordingly did. It was the only 
white beaver ever seen in that part of the country. This is 
the skin of it.— A. S. de Peyster.' A romantic story surely, 
and a priceless record for any family to have. The drawing- 
room and dining-room have excellent views of the winding 
Nith, the Galloway hills, and the smooth moss of Criffel on 
the right— the mountain that Carlyle speaks of in his apos- 
trophe to Paul Jones in the "French Revolution"— with the 
quieter scenery of Dumfriesshire on the left bank. In the 
spacious dining-room are the lovely portraits of Colonel de 



%-:... 




Gaptain ARENT SCHUYLER de PEYSTER, 
Discoverer, in May, 181 7, of the Ellice Group or de Peyster, or Peyster Islands, in the 

southern Pacific: 
with the Punch Bowl, cost 125 Guineas, equivalent to-day to $2,000. Presented in 
1 779 by the Merchants of Michilimackinac to his uncle, Arent Schuyler de Peyster, 
Colonel of the King's (8th) Regiment of British Foot. 



A SCOTCH DE PEYSTER. 439 

Peyster and Mrs. de Peyster, both in their twenties appa- 
rently, she being painted in the airy costume she wore when 
she danced "Monymusk" with the Prince of "Wales, the 
three ostrich feathers being shown on her sash. The whole 
house is in excellent condition; some rooms papered in 1849 
showing neither blot nor blemish.' Mr. Law thinks it was 
surely a special Providence that directed him to Mavisgrove 
at this particular time, as Miss Dods, preparatory to leaving 
the mansion very soon, has already commenced to dismantle 
the rooms. This will be the first serious disturbance in the 
old house since Colonel de Peyster occupied it, and for the 
first time in its history a stranger will have the opportunity 
of renting and of using it. What may eventually become of 
the valuable de Peyster relics seems unsettled, but, we under- 
stand, it is Mr. Law's intention to communicate at once with 
'the King owre the water,' General de Peyster, of New York, 
and find out how he may view the present turn of affairs." 
Supplementing the foregoing, it was learned that while Miss 
Dods is the sole trustee under Mrs. McMurdo's will, Mrs. 
Rawlins a blood relation was left a life rent of "Mavis 
Grove" house. The two women were not apparently on 
friendly terms, and Miss Dods was stripping the old house 
of all of its furniture and pictures, books, paintings, relics 
and contents of every kind, preparatory to moving to a smaller 
house nearer Dumfries. Mrs. McMurdo died in 1902, aged 
over ninety years. Miss Dods had been her companion from 
girlhood and is now over sixty. By a recent number of the 
Edinburgh "Scotsman" it was noticed that Miss Dods had 
given the de Peyster portraits and relics to the Maxwelltown 
Observatory Museum, but whether an outright gift or only 
for safe keeping was not stated. In St. Michael's Church- 
yard, Dumfries, not far from the Burns Mausoleum, there is 
a large monument erected over the grave of Colonel de Pey- 
ster, somewhat in disrepair at the present time, as evidently 
no provision has been made for its care, Mrs. McMurdo having 
been the last personal link in Scotland connected with Burns 's 
friend. From several old residents stray items about de Pey- 
ster were picked up. Mr. Brown who is married to Burns 's 
granddaughter, told the writer that he remembered seeing 



440 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

many paintings at "Mavis Grove" that are now missing, one 
of the most striking being entitled: "Colonel de Peyster 
burying his accoutrements." Miss Dods admitted she had 
somewhere many de Peyster papers and also Burns MSS. 
addressed to de Peyster, including Poems and Letters unpub- 
lished and imprinted. The ambition of Dumfries is to some- 
time own the "Mavis Grove" property and turn it into 
"de Peyster Park." The City already owns the land on the 
opposite bank of the Nith. Colonel de Peyster 's kinship to 
General John Watts de Peyster is fully shown in the inter- 
esting account of the Watts and de Peyster family history 
collected and printed for private circulation by General de 
Peyster. 



WALT WHITMAN. 

Forceful, mystic, nonchalantic, rugged, rocky, careless, steep, crude. 
Audacious, wild, gigantic, heavy, wholesome, vital, 
Deep, democratic, manly, terse, — All, and more, 
Is Whitman's verse. 

When I lived in Camden, N. J., Walt Whitman was 
its greatest resident celebrity. The "good gray poet" 
was often to be seen on the streets of the city, and a 
refreshing sight he was. The common people, who 
probably never read a line of his writings, admired him 
and loved him, considering him a valuable and unique 
local property, which they could all enjoy, and with 
special claims denied to outsiders. The first time I 
saw him I was out with one of my children who hailed 
Walt as "Kris Kringle" the moment he hove into view. 
I met him several times, and find among my papers a 
detailed memorandum of a visit I paid him at his resi- 
dence in company with another Scottish friend on Sun- 
day afternoon, January 5, 1890. 

" We were ushered into the poet's sitting-room and found him alone 
by the window, beside a small table covered with books. He had evi- 
dently been reading. He spoke first and greeted us kindly. His first 
sentence made me feel at home at once. I was forcibly impressed by 
his appearance: very white hair and beard, actually lion-looking; 
somewhat disappointed in his forehead which was not so big in reality 
as it looks in his pictures. Thought also he looked thinner, smaller 
all through. He was slightly deaf, and we had to talk pretty loud. 
He had lost all power of moving about, he told us, and had to be 
assisted everywhere. Had just come from his den upstairs for a breath- 
ing space. He was dressed as shown in his portraits — big roll collar, 
and wore a dressing gown. Had his staff — a sturdy one — in his hand 
even when sitting. After some complimentary personal references to 
me in connection with my recently published epistle to him we com- 
menced to talk about Burns. We let Whitman do the most of the 
talking. He had a fine, clear voice, but was not what I should con- 
sider a fluent, easy speaker. Very often he seemed at a loss to find 
his words — at other times it fairly poured from him. He was strong 

441 



442 HERE AND THERE IN" TWO HEMISPHERES. 

enough in his expressions at times, not scrupling to use ' damn'd,' 
' devil,' etc., upon several occasions. Remembering all the ancient and 
modern poets, finding pleasure in the classical and other writers, in 
the polished, learned, polite, etc., he said he preferred Burns to all; 
and none of all the writers past and present would he so much desire 
to converse with, have a two hours' chat with, as this ' odd kind chiel ' 
of Ayr. Spoke about the indelicacy of Burns, of his taking to drink 
and women — of his ambitions, his struggles, his independence, enjoy- 
ments, and so forth. With Carlyle he considered ' The Jolly Beggars ' 
the greatest of all Burns's poems. He was pleased that we agreed 
with him when he said that the most of the people who now were 
prominent at Burns festivals and birthday celebrations would not 
have associated with Robbie in the flesh. In leaving he said he had 
spent the time happily with us, and asked us to be sure and come 
again. The only thing lacking was a little 'hot scotch' or 'toddy,' 
and he was sorry he could not supply the deficiency. On our next 
visit he would give us his autograph." 

Doubtless a good Boswell would have made consid- 
erably more of such an opportunity, but meager as it 
is, what a sensation would be caused if as much genu- 
ine matter could be shown from the pen of a visitor to 
William Shakespeare "of Stratford-on-Avon, gentle- 
man!" I found my way back again to the venerable 
author of ' ' Leaves of Grass ' ' and secured the promised 
autograph. Later on I was one of the number at ' ' The 
Last Supper" given to the poet, an evening which has 
been happily described in every detail by my friend, 
Horace L. Traubel, in the interesting volume entitled 
"In re Walt Whitman." At the home of Thomas B. 
Harned, Esq., one of Whitman's most intimate friends, 
I have had many interesting items about Walt. The 
two gentlemen just named with Dr. E. M. Bucke, of 
Canada, became the poet's literary executors. Whit- 
man was a magnet that drew many of the world's great- 
est celebrities to Camden. I remember Sir Edwin Ar- 
nold's visit, and on account of a similar call I had the 
pleasure of spending a delightful evening with the poet- 
naturalist, John Burroughs, who came frequently to 
worship at Walt's shrine. 



TWO PRESIDENTS I HAVE MET. 

Theodore Roosevelt. 

Back from Washington — What the Tobacco Men Accomplished 

— Had Long and Satisfactory Talks with the President 

and Secretary Wilson, Speaker Henderson and 

Congressman Cassel. 

From Lancaster local papers, January, 1902. 

With a local pride that is very pardonable and ego- 
tism that is inoffensive, we might say that Wednesday 
was Lancaster County day at Washington. This ap- 
plies more particularly, of course, to the Tobacco and 
Cigar men of the county, but through the personal 
efforts of Congressman H. Burd Cassel, the gentlemen 
who represented the tobacco and cigar interests of the 
county, Messrs. James D. Law, B. Ezra Herr, Captain 
John R. Bricker and Morris Rosenthal, were accorded 
privileges of a particular nature. Of Mr. Cassel, Mr. 
Law, speaking for the local delegation, can be quoted 
as saying: 

" We particularly desire that strong mention be made of our Con- 
gressman, Mr. Cassel. He gave us more than a fair share of his time, 
attending with us all the committee and delegate meetings. He was 
at all times watchful of our interests, zealously seeing that we were 
not sidetracked, which might well have happened. We found with con- 
siderable pleasure, personal as well as local, that he commanded the 
respect of the best people in Washington, and feel sure that his influ- 
ence enabled us to reach men and places that an ordinary member 
could not have come in touch with." 

With this graceful but deserved compliment to Lan- 
caster County's popular Representative, Mr. Law, act- 
ing as spokesman for the three gentlemen in question, 
said, in an interview with a reporter of The New Era 
this morning : 

443 



444 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

" We saw President Roosevelt yesterday at the White House, where 
we shook hands and exchanged greetings. He said, with special em- 
phasis, that he was glad to see anyone from Lancaster County. Talk- 
ing directly to us as a delegation, the President said that the proposed 
Cuban reciprocity measure now under discussion was one of the 
weightiest, if not the most important, measures now before Congress. 
He assured us that he would give it his careful and conscientious atten- 
tion, and we understood him distinctly to say that if Cuban reci- 
procity was to come it should not come at the expense of American 
industries. 

" The final impression the President left with us was that something 
should be done for Cuba, and he was not yet prepared to say that he 
had solved the very difficult problem. He concluded the interview by 
again assuring us that our arguments and appeals would be given every 
consideration by him. We left the White House feeling that we had 
made a strong impression on the Nation's Chief Executive." 

The President personally impressed me as a gentle- 
man, dignified and democratic— a rare combination in 
a man. Of medium height, he has the frame of an 
athlete, with the glow of perfect health. To look into 
his sparkling eyes and have the hearty grasp of his 
hand, left the impression of a strong, clean, honest man, 
amply able to fill the high position which he now occu- 
pies. 

[Since the foregoing was written President Roose- 
velt— (pronounced "Bosy-velt")— has met all the high 
expectations of the people and has also retained the 
good will of his party. He is sure of a renomination 
and at the present writing — November, 1903 — his re- 
election seems also sure.] 

" Later in the day the Lancaster delegation paid a visit to Secretary 
of Agriculture Wilson, at his office. I introduced my fellow-country- 
man* to the others of the party from Lancaster County, and we secured 
information of vital importance to us in our fight now under way. 

" Mr. Wilson is an enthusiast on the cultivation of tobacco under 
government supervision and aid. He gave us very interesting accounts 
of the culture in various States to date, and outlined the policy of his 
department in regard to the future, including Lancaster County." 



* Hon. James Wilson hails from the State of Iowa, but is a native 
of Ayrshire, Scotland. He has never had his equal as a Cabinet officer 
in the important position to which he was called. 



TWO PRESIDENTS I HAVE MET. 445 

" Mr. Law also met his Aberdeen friend, Speaker Henderson, who 
gave the local delegation a most cordial reception. They were given a 
rare privilege — that of seeing Congress in session from the Speaker's 
bench.* As a pleasant ending to a most satisfactory day, the delega- 
tion visited the United States Botanical Gardens. Here they met an- 
other friend of Mr. Law's — who, by the way, was a most valuable man 
to have in the party — the Superintendent, Mr. W. R. Smith. They 
were shown everywhere, and ended up by having a look at Mr. Smith's 
Burns collection, which is the finest in the world. 

" In addition to seeing the President, Mr. Law and his colleagues 
were brought into close conference with Senators Quay and Penrose. 
The senior Senator said that, as a Lancaster County farmer himself, 
he was thoroughly identified with the county's interests, and he was 
with the tobacco growers heart and soul. His sentiments were echoed 
by his junior colleague, Senator Penrose, who declared that he would 
do all he could for Lancaster County. 

" After lunching in the House restaurant with Congressman Cassel, 
the delegates took the two o'clock train for home, via the river route. 
They returned with an intense feeling of satisfaction in having accom- 
plished in no mean measure matters of vital interest to our county, 
particularly to our farmers and cigar manufacturers." 



William McKinley. 

Had a Chat with the President — Mb. James D. Law Has a 

Pleasant Interview with the Chief Executive at 

His Home in Canton. 

From Lancaster, Pa., New Era, August 9, 1900. 

Mr. James D. Law, of this city, has just returned 
from an extended business trip in the West and North- 
west. On Tuesday, he was in Canton, Ohio, and in the 
evening had the privilege of a very pleasant interview 
with President McKinley at the President's home. It 
was the warmest day of the year for Canton and the 
President remarked that he had put in the two busiest 
weeks, on State affairs, since his inauguration. While 

* General David Bremner Henderson is a native of Old Deer, Aber- 
deenshire, Scotland. Had he been a born American he might have been 
President. He attained the next highest position in the gift of his 
country and the most powerful office possible to a citizen of foreign 
birth. As Speaker he was a great success, and as a man no Congress- 
man was more popular. 

30 



446 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

he is nominally enjoying a holiday, the business of the 
Chief Executive is carried on in Canton exactly as if he 
were in Washington. He had just finished a forty min- 
utes ' conversation with the State Department, by long- 
distance telephone, when Mr. Law met him. Quite a va- 
riety of topics were discussed, including literature, his- 
tory and commerce. The President soon recognized 
that Mr. Law was a Scotch- American, and became quite 
enthusiastic over the record of the Scot in America 
(both as men of thought and men of action), remark- 
ing that the McKinleys originally hailed from the Land 
of Cakes. 

The President also showed that he was quite familiar 
with the history of Lancaster, and made pleasant ref- 
erences to not a few of our distinguished citizens. Al- 
together, Mr. Law's visit was an incident to be highly 
treasured, not the least enjoyable features of it being 
the democratic simplicity of the President and the de- 
lightful informality of the conference.* 

* It may please my European friends to have a few further particu- 
lars of this visit, if only to show more clearly the genuine democratic 
spirit of the Chief Magistrate of the greatest country under the sun. 
I had no letter of introduction to Mr. McKinley, not expecting to be 
near his residence when I left home. Many friends would have been 
only too glad to have given me a note to break the ice, had I given 
any indication to that effect. After finishing up my business in Can- 
ton I decided I would take a stroll up the street and see the Presi- 
dent's house, so that I could tell my family about it when I got home; 
but as I drew nearer the cottage the thought occurred to me that I 
should try to see the President himself; partly to test the possibility 
of such a thing in a plain citizen without any political pull, and partly, 
I confess, to add to my pride in being able to say I had met McKinley. 
Very soon then behold me marching up to the door as if I had been the 
duly accredited British Ambassador! In answer to my bell-pull a 
gentleman promptly responded. " Good evening." " Good evening." 
" Is the President at home? " " Yes, sir." " Can I see him? " (Hesi- 
tatingly) "I'll find out. What do you wish? Have you any business 
with him ? " " No business whatever, and no favors to ask, except the 
privilege of shaking hands with him, since I have the opportunity of 
being in his town." " Please give me your card and I'll see." He took 
this, and disappeared quickly, returning to tell me that "the President 



TWO PRESIDENTS I HAVE MET. 447 

was dressing for dinner and was that moment at his bath. However 

he had presented my card, and " I did not let him finish, the 

ludicrousness of the situation appealing so forcibly to me that I said 
something I should not have said, — about coming so far to catch the 
President of the United States in such a funny position and condition 
(using a homely figure of speech that just filled the bill). It tickled 
the attendant so that he said : " I'll just go back and tell that to the 
President!" "Oh, no! — don't you dare," I beseeched him, but he was 
off, and the explosion of laughter that came through the screen doors 
told me that he had not miscalculated the President's appreciation of 
my remark. By and by my man reappeared and said the President 
would be particularly pleased to see me after eight o'clock and to be 
sure to come. This gave me a chance to spruce myself up and change 
my travelling togs for more suitable clothes, and I was on hand at the 
appointed time. The porch was swarming with all sorts and condi- 
tions of people, finely dressed ladies, officers in their brilliant uniforms, 
and quite a horde of office seekers, as I afterwards heard. It was the 
President's summer vacation reception hour. When I saw one by one 
go indoors to be swiftly ushered out again and take their departure 
I decided all I could do would probably be to shake hands and go my 
way too. But my friend of the door episode soon found me out and 
whispered to me that I was to wait until the last and not be impatient, 
as the crowd would soon be dismissed. When the last man had gone 
in and come out I thought " It will now be my turn to go through 
the same operation," — but no; after waiting a little bit the door was 
pushed open and out stepped Mr. McKinley himself. I knew him at 
once from his resemblance to his photographs. He came briskly for- 
ward, held out his hand with a winning smile and put me at my ease 
at once by saying, "Mr. Law: That joke of yours was worthy of 
Abraham Lincoln. It had just enough wit in it to disinfect it." 
He would hear no apology and I am glad a shaded corner hid my 
blushes. " If you don't mind we'll sit out here. It is hot and stuffy 
inside." " I shall be delighted, Mr. President, but don't let me take 
up your time." " Oh," he said, " school's out now, and I am free for 
the evening. Take a chair." There were three rockers on the porch, 
and to be modest I sat down in the one farthest from him, but he in- 
sisted on me taking the nearer one. In a few minutes we were as 
" pack and thick thegither " as if we had been life-long friends. It 
really surprises myself when I recall how many topics we touched 
upon, public, national, racial, local, and also some of a private nature. 
The President talked brilliantly, even joyously, just as if he really 
felt like a boy let loose from school, and yet he had his soft and tender 
moods when his heart with its sorrows and disappointments seemed 
to be revealed. We had much in common and many mutual friends to 
talk about. On the other hand we both showed our Scotch by differ- 
ing on several matters and had one or two pleasant debates on points 
that we had to leave unsettled. I liked the President for his home 



448 HEKE AND THEKE IN TWO HEMISPHEBES. 

patriotism, and his desire to convince me that Stark County, Ohio, was 
perhaps the finest agricultural district in the Union. But primed as 
I was with Lancaster statistics and knowing that she safely " led all 
the rest," I would not concede an inch, and even told him that Stark 
doubtless owed her supremacy in Ohio to the fact that her pioneers 
hailed from Lancaster. He was so bent on me having a better opinion 
01 his home land that he asked me to stay over until next day so that 
he could drive me around some of their finest farms. I regret now 
that I did not avail myself of this rare invitation, but at the time 
it seemed to me to be impossible. The President even planned a prac- 
tical joke with me to be. perpetrated on our friend Smith of the Botanic 
Gardens when I should next be in Washington. As I sat in the dim 
light with Mr. McKinley so long, and all by ourselves, I could not 
help thinking that he was a fearless man so to expose himself. If I 
had harbored any designs on his life there would have been no diffi- 
culty in picking him off. We even discussed the matter and he showed 
me he was without any fear. He could not imagine any one having 
such a grudge against him as to try to kill him and plainly hinted that 
if the position had to be coupled with that constant dread it would 
not be worth having. No doubt he still felt so, on that fatal day at 
Buffalo, when he fell a victim to the assassin's bullet. 

As I said in a short talk before the children of Clay Street School, 
Lancaster, on "McKinley Day" (January 29), 1902: President McKin- 
ley had strength as well as gentleness, and all his life he showed that 
he was steadily growing in power and usefulness. Beginning in ob- 
scurity, he became one of the foremost figures in the world. At his 
lamented death he was in the full height of his fame. He represented 
the noblest type of statesmanship — irreproachable in his private life, 
and unselfishly devoted to what he believed to be for the best interests 
of his country and people. 



SNAP SHOTS OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 

Washington, D. C. 
To any one pressed for time the best way to see 
Washington is by the ' ' Seeing Washington Car. ' ' The 
first time I was in the Capitol City I availed myself of 
this opportunity, in company with many others from all 
parts of the Union. A thousand points of interest were 
passed in review in about two hours at a total expense 
of fifty cents. This excellent enterprise of the trolley 
company is supplemented by a lecturer who points out 
every noted place, and enlivens the facts with little 
facetious remarks of his own spoken through the mega- 
phone. For instance, after telling us many times that 
"Henry Clay lived here" or "There Daniel Webster 
had his office ' ' the guide observed : ' ' These noted peo- 
ple were in so many different places in Washington 
it is believed by some that, like more common mortals, 
they found it easier to move than to pay the rent!" 
After pointing out "the house presented to Admiral 
Dewey by a grateful nation" the lecturer added: "And 
presented by Dewey to his wife, and by his wife to his 
son— making the quickest transfer on record— except 
on a trolley car!" And some will have it "the most ex- 
pensive too, ' ' asserting that this little episode cost the 
gallant tar the Presidency of the United States. Our 
cicerone showed us a typical old negro shanty, owned 
by the first free black man in Washington, noted for his 
big family and his slender purse— not an uncommon 
combination among white people. This ' ' coon ' ' was ac- 
customed to satisfy the clamors of his hungry "black- 
birds" by saying: "Never mind, chillun: If I only 
had a little meal I'd make you a little mush if I only 
had a little milk." When the car stopped beside the 

449 



450 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

former residence of Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, the 
novelist, we had the pleasure of seeing her daughter, 
who now lives in the old mansion. We saw the Po- 
tomac where George Washington threw the dollar 
across, and concluded with Senator Evarts that a dollar 
must have gone farther in those days than now. Yet 
the immortal Gr. W. did a bigger feat than that when he 
chucked a sovereign across the Atlantic! We saw hun- 
dreds of other equally interesting points and places as- 
sociated with the nation's celebrities, and more than 
could have been taken in by a carriage drive of several 
days' duration. 

Among the places I visited by myself the magnificent 
Library of Congress interested me most. I was taken 
in charge by my countryman, Mr. D. Hutcheson, whose 
official title is Superintendent of the Eeading Eoom in 
the big library. He has a little Burns nook too, but 
makes no pretensions to completeness. Amongst its 
gems, however, may be mentioned the copy of Burns 
that belonged to his friend and brother poet, now better 
known as "The American Ornithologist"— 

"Rare Sandy Wilson, in his day 
To Burns the second best." 

My own pride was kindled by seeing a copy of my 
"Sea Shore of Bohemia" beautifully bound at Uncle 
Sam's expense, and prominently displayed in the 
Shakespearean alcove. I made a hurried tour of the 
leading rooms of this splendid building, and felt that 
our Republic at least had not been ungrateful to the 
memory of the "literary fellers" that were too often 
kept on short rations while producing their immortal 
masterpieces. 

In the House of Representatives and again in the 
Senate Chamber I had the rare privilege of making a 
speech and "laid down the law" in both instances to 



SNAP SHOTS OF AMEEICAN TRAVEL. 451 

an appreciative, if rather limited audience. If my talks 
did little good they certainly did no harm and it were 
well if as much could be said of most of the orations 
made in our legislative halls. 

Once in writing me from the House of Parliament, 
London, Sir William Allan dated his letter ' ' From Our 
National Gas-House," but I think our Federal states- 
men could give the sleepy British law-makers new 
wrinkles on "hot-air" exhibitions. By the kindness of 
one of the attendants I was shown through the rooms 
of the President and Vice-President, and as it was then 
near lunch time and I felt I could not relapse too sud- 
denly into my normal condition I had a meal served in 
the Senate restaurant. After sampling the tempting 
bill-of-f are I had no need to ask the well-worn question : 
"Upon what meat doth this, our Caesar, feed that he 
has grown so great?" As to the drinkables, with the 
exception of filtered Potomac ice-water, I contented 
myself with simply perusing the lengthy list. A little 
note of pathos was struck when I came upon a great 
mass of desks and chairs removed to give place to new 
furniture for the next Congress. After some difficulty 
I located the seat and desk of our late lamented Brosius. 
I learned that the old "fixings" are sold for a song to 
any one who cares to buy, and I suggested to some of 
the Young Eepublicans of Lancaster that they could do 
a worse thing than secure for their Club-house the chair 
and desk used in Congress by our county's recent bril- 
liant Representative. "True," I said, "these souve- 
nirs might cost the price of a vote at a primary elec- 
tion, ' ' but I did not think any loyal Republican would 
object even on that score. However, so far as I can 
learn, "government of the Boss, by the Boss, and for 
the Boss ' ' wasted no coins on such a sentimental recom- 
mendation. To make an open confession I never ex- 
pected it, but I think it worth recording as a fair sam- 



452 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

pie of "practical politics" in our "advanced" era. 
"The gratitude of place-expectants is a lively sense of 
future favors." Right you are, Sir Horace Walpole! 
"Dead men tell no tales," and of what use to pot-house 
politicians are the most sacred relics of a Lincoln, a 
Jefferson, a Webster or a Brosiusf* 

Washington is a lovely city, permanently prosperous, 
and undoubtedly destined to be the Paris of the New 
World. 

Chicago. 

This city has always to me stood in a class by itself. 
It is big and lively,— solid as well as spry. The very 
air about it seems charged with "weight" and "dash" 
and " go. " I have seen it when in the throes of reform, 
and been in it when ' ' everything went. ' ' It would be 
a dull day indeed when the Queen City of Lake Michi- 
gan could report "Nothing doing." I have been 
abroad in its streets at all hours, and never once was 
molested or interfered with, which certainly speaks well 
for its police protection. At the same time I must say 
that other strangers have had a different story to tell, 

* Another time in Washington I happened to be a delegate represent- 
ing the Allied Tobacco interests of Lancaster County before The Ways 
and Means Committee of Congress. Personally I had no trouble in 
delivering my speech, but I was surprised and shocked to note the 
evident desire of some of the members of Congress to ridicule delegates, 
and try to vitiate their arguments by impertinent questions and impu- 
dent comments. One " honorable " gentleman indeed leaned back in his 
chair and informed a speaker who had got the better of the discussion 
that he must not talk so to the Committee of Ways and Means and 
least of all ask questions, emphasizing the statement that while dele- 
gates could be questioned they must not attempt to question! It was 
only another exhibition of the arrogance of men in position, but hardly 
to be expected of Congressmen. They should never forget that they are 
only servants — the people are the rulers and their masters, because 
their creators — and this applies to every man in office from the watch- 
man of a Government store to the tenant of the White House. As in 
other countries, the most courteous officials are generally those highest 
in power, so the most insolent are the flies that have crept from a 
dung-heap to " hold down " some petty post. 



SNAP SHOTS OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 453 

and there are authentic cases in abundance where foot- 
pads between dusk and dawn have robbed and maimed 
and murdered within the boundaries of the town. In 
the number of drunken men and women to be seen stag- 
gering through the streets it reminded me more of Glas- 
gow than any other American city. One of the out- 
standing features of Chicago is the great display by 
outdoor speakers to be heard holding forth nightly in 
the leading thoroughfares until the wee sma' hours of 
the morning. It is only paralleled by the freak and 
fakir exhibit of a first-class county fair. Here is a 
preacher denouncing all churches, while another agrees 
to prove anything from the Bible.* At one corner a 
quack doctor puffs up his wonderful nostrums, and at 
another a faithful son of Erin undertakes to defend the 
Mother Church against all comers. Astrologers, palm- 
ists, phrenologists, with tricksters of every shade and 
degree have no trouble in collecting large audiences. 
Sometimes discussions are precipitated that end in free 
fights and free trips to the station-house, but as a rule 
anything is listened to with great tolerance. Here, too, 
in the open air, while policemen loitered with the 
crowds, I heard attempts at speech-making that ran the 
whole gamut of lawlessness from so-called " philosoph- 
ical anarchy" to red-flagged Nihilism that not infre- 
quently ends with the bullet and the bomb.f Between 
the unrestricted dissemination of such vicious doc- 
trines, the wanton abuse of power by the large syndi- 
cates, and the unblushing, unpunished corruption so 
prevalent at our political elections I sadly fear America 
has troublous times ahead of her in the near future; 

* This gentleman on a challenge to quote anything relating to 
" Trusts " gave the story of Joseph's wheat " corner " in Egypt, and 
showed that in spite of this "crime of the eighteenth century" (B. C), 
he was signally rewarded and blessed by Jehovah. 

| Part of this article was published in The Examiner of Lancaster, 
Pa., and before the types were cold the world wa9 horrified by the 
assassination of McKinley. 



454 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

and it is a doubtful question which form of ruin will 
the sooner result in national chaos. Strange as it may 
seem, history will show that while monarchies can 
weather such open and insidious enemies they have car- 
ried down to destruction all the republics of the past 
without a single exception. To my mind monopolistic 
combines, boodle politicians and anarchistic societies 
are equally dangerous, and are all working hard, from 
different points, for the ruin of the United States. 

The "star" attraction of Chicago on my last visit 
was my countryman John Alexander Dowie, who de- 
sires to be known as "Elijah III." In this he is only 
copying after a German fanatic who flourished in the 
early days of the Reformation, but he seems "original" 
enough to his followers to make "Dowieism" in their 
estimation second only to "Christism." The modern 
prophet has a good deal of the "Get there Eli" spirit, 
and successfully unites business with his Bible inter- 
pretations. I paid a visit to "Zion," and felt well re- 
warded for the time spent in Dowie 's tabernacle. The 
walls of the church were covered with crutches, band- 
ages, canes and all such souvenirs of people who claim 
to have been cured by "Divine Healing" "per J. A. 
D." Every disease and complaint known to humanity 
seemed to be represented, and when "Elijah's" wings 
sprout a little longer he will commence raising people 
from the dead. He is booked for a crusade against 
wicked New York this fall, and according to some "he 
is to invade the temples of the money-changers, and 
drive the gamblers of Wall Street out of Gotham." 
Several thousand followers will accompany him and it 
is also reported that "he and his cohorts are deter- 
mined to come to the rescue of many multi-millionaire 
Christians who would be glad to die rich but do not 
know how." 

Prophet Dowie shows his Scotch wit in the name he 



SNAP SHOTS OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 455 

selected for his model city. He calls it "Ben Mac- 
dhui," which is a ca/nting reference to his own name, 
the vernacular pronunciation of "Dowie" being 
"dooie." But "dhui" signifies "black," and a 
"dooie" is "a little pigeon." "Dowie" means "sad, 
sickly, ' ' so, considering what the High Priest of Chris- 
tian Healing stands for, the word carries both bane and 
antidote! It is also claimed for our modern John of 
Brienne that he is related to Admiral Dewey, and that 
his reverence has a new "Dowie" Bible in the press! 
When in his church I heard several "Zionists" give 
their "testimony," describing in detail miraculous 
cures by the Dowie methods. In front of me sat a 
couple of ladies, one young and pretty and the other 
old and deaf. A deaconess in charge of a Dowie i l chil- 
dren 's home ' ' was giving her experiences. My elderly 
neighbor only caught an occasional sentence, but evi- 
dently got it into her head that the deaconess was the 
mother of all the children, as I heard a whispered ' ' How 
many she must have!" to the giggling beauty by her 
side. A little later on the speaker said: "Yes, my 
friends, and this one is now as well as any one of 
my whole flock, and (raising her voice) I have now 
sixty-seven of them." "Did you ever hear the like of 
that?" said the deaf old lady. "She says she is the 
mother of sixty-seven ! ' ' and not waiting for any more 
enlightenment she grabbed up her umbrella, clutched 
her companion by the arm, and indignantly marched 
out. 

Niagara Falls. 

It seems a more wonderful place every visit. For 
any one with limited time nothing can equal a round- 
trip on the Eocky Gorge trolley-car. It takes two good 
hours to make the journey, but its impressions will last 
a life-time, and I believe justify the claim that it is 
"the most magnificent scenic trip in the universe." 



456 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Niagara will always be indescribable. It simply is, 
and any attempt to do it justice only shows the weak- 
ness of the writer and the poverty of our language. 
Perhaps if one were to camp by the Falls for a whole 
year he might absorb something of their grandeur and 
their glamour, their power, their majesty and their 
glory. To look up at them or to look down on them is 
thrilling enough, but to draw close to them and watch 
them where the water turns over at the level of the eye 
is to see the incarnation of beauty and sublimity. The 
rapids are in some respects as marvellous as the falls, 
and equally fascinating. At first a disappointment, 
they grow on one until their movement and their music 
find a lodgment in the brain never to be wholly eradi- 
cated—typifying in concrete form the solemn dirge of 
time in its ceaseless flow from eternity to eternity. 

Kansas City. 

Up to the present writing Kansas City marks the 
extreme limit of my travels westward. It is noted for 
many things, but somehow its association with the Jesse 
James boys will always persist in obtruding. Although 
not in my line of reading I had heard of the Jesse 
James books long before I saw the town, and I had 
not been but a short time there when I was taken to 
"a Jesse James cigar store," said to be managed by 
"a genuine Jesse James boy"— in fact one of them- 
selves! He was then under suspicion of being impli- 
cated in a train-robbery, this style of hold-up being 
the kind of amusement the "J. J. boys" have made 
peculiarly their own. The ' ' old man ' ' was also pointed 
out to me, and a harmless enough looking soul he 
seemed, but one can never pass final judgment on first 
appearances. 

Kansas City has an atmosphere entirely different 
from our eastern towns, being even breezier than bus- 



SNAP SHOTS OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 457 

tling Chicago or stately St. Louis. The people of Kan- 
sas City are hospitable, quick to discern and prompt to 
act. Their town is big already, but struck me as a 
very much bigger place in the making. Although liable 
to damage from floods, it is well situated for rapid 
expansion, and is bound to be a great metropolis. Its 
citizens live well, denying themselves none of the com- 
forts and luxuries of modern civilization. I mention 
this explicitly because I have met many readers and 
even travellers of intelligence who were under the im- 
pression that Kansas City was only a collection of dry 
goods boxes on a bluff inhabited by a set of semi-civil- 
ized cowboys and Indians with the tail-ends of the East- 
ern States. 

The Warm Springs op Virginia, U. S. A. 
Bath County, Virginia, is noted for its fine mountain 
scenery and remarkable springs. Hot Springs can be 
reached by rail, but the still more famed Warm Springs 
are five miles farther up the mountains. Part of the 
largest building at Warm Springs has been used as a 
hotel for over a hundred and twenty years, and seems 
good yet for quite as long a term. The resort has been 
patronized by the aristocracy of the South for genera- 
tions, and the registers and account books are still 
shown containing the entries for such distinguished 
guests as Washington, Jefferson, Madison and many 
other names of the fathers of the Eepublic. At Warm 
Springs one can make the acquaintance of genuine old- 
fashioned Virginia cooking, and get into the atmosphere 
of a first-class southern home. The "help ' ' of the place 
is all "colored," and many of the darkies have grown 
gray in the service. Their "old-time concerts" are 
among the most interesting events of the season. The 
place is still largely favored by the best families of the 
South and West, and when I was there had quite a 



458 HEKE AND THEEE IIST TWO HEMISPHEKES. 

sprinkling of notables among its patrons. "Fighting 
Joe" Wheeler, Mrs. Bebeeea Harding Davis, and Miss 
Mary Johnston, the novelist, were all to be seen on the 
porch at one time. But the miracles and marvels of 
the place are, of course, the Warm Springs themselves. 
The scientific explanation of these springs is that they 
have their source over an extinct or dormant volcano. 
There are two large enclosed pools— one for the men 
and one for the women— and for once at least the ladies 
get the better. The water is of great volume, of bluish 
transparency, and is continually bubbling and spark- 
ling like champagne. Its natural temperature is 98 
degrees, and anything more luxurious or refreshing I 
have never experienced. That it is an unapproachable 
specific for all kinds of nervous troubles can readily be 
believed when even one bath is found to be beneficial. 
Near by are cold springs, and in the neighborhood are 
sweet springs and sulphur springs and every other 
variety of springs known to the dictionary, so there 
was a special significance in naming the territory 
Bath" County. 



a 



Flag Rock and Tap o' Noth. 
Flag Rock is the highest point in the neighborhood 
of Warm Springs, Virginia, U. S. A., and on a clear day 
commands a view of one hundred miles. I climbed it 
easily in half an hour on a hot August forenoon, and 
felt well rewarded for my exertions. It seemed to be 
the very peak from which the devil tried to tempt 
Christ, for I am sure such a panorama as was there 
unfolded is nowhere to be found in all Palestine or on 
the entire Eastern hemisphere. It is not its height that 
gives it such importance; but its commanding position 
with the clear atmosphere and the bewildering variety 
of hill and dale, farm and city, wood and river, railroad 
and mountain path, to be seen in every direction from 



SNAP SHOTS OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 459 

its stone-surmounted top, makes it the grandest look- 
out it has ever been my good fortune to be on. I am 
half -ashamed to be disloyal to my own ' ' Aberdeenshire 
Tap o' Noth," but "truth will stand when a' thing's 
f ailin \ ' ' and I must yield the palm to Flag Rock, Vir- 
ginia, until I scale a better hill. 



FRESH MATTER ABOUT BURNS. 

Over and over again the statement has been made 
that Burns has never been appreciated in Dumfries as 
he should be, considering how much the place owes to 
his genius. So far as I could see during my short stay 
in 1902 the charge is certainly groundless. It was 
' ' Burns ' ' everywhere, and not a blind unreasoning wor- 
ship, but the admiration of friends who were also critics 
and knew the poet's writings from his first to his last 
song. At the same time one cannot be blamed for wish- 
ing that some of the Dumfries Burns clubs, or individ- 
ual scholars, had long ere this paid some attention to 
looking up more closely the private libraries in their 
neighborhood where with any plausibility there might 
be in existence unknown or unprinted writings of 
Burns. By the merest chance I was led to visit Col- 
onel de Peyster's old home at "Mavis-grove," on a pri- 
vate mission and was astounded to find myself trans- 
ported back to the era of Burns, into the very rooms 
that he had often graced, and permitted to examine the 
books among which he had browsed when the guest of 
his rhyming brother and commanding officer. The li- 
brary had been waiting my coming for over a hundred 
years, and after a round-about journey of more than 
6,000 miles! Without any hesitation or delay I gave 
to the Dumfries newspapers a partial account of my 
discoveries,* thereby hoping to incite the local scholars 
to follow up my visit, and believing that with more 
leisure they could accomplish better results. Whether 
or not any one has done so is unknown to me, and I 
rather fear the opportunity pointed out has been al- 
lowed to pass unimproved. ' ; Mavisgrove " should not 

* See page 434. 

460 



o. « 

<* O 

•< o 

15- < 

(II PI 




FRESH MATTER ABOUT BURNS. 461 

be the only old mansion near Dumfries where new 
Burnsiana might be found. The noting of de Peyster 
books which Burns had undoubtedly handled and an- 
notated was surely interesting enough as far as it went, 
but of more importance— as now for the first time told 
—was the securing of a small collection of manuscripts, 
not in the handwriting of Burns, but containing, I feel 
sure, several unpublished poems by him.* The follow- 
ing piece is endorsed "This is by Burns," and bears 
internal evidence of being his composition. Eobert 
Aiken was the gentleman to whom the poet dedicated 
his "Cottar's Saturday Night." He also figures as his 
1 ' Orator Bob, ' ' and we know he subscribed for over 140 
copies of the first or Kilmarnock edition of Burns 's 
poems— about a fourth of the whole issue! Aiken's 
son was the "Andrew, lad" of the poet's magnificent 
' ' Epistle to. a Young Friend. ' ' The last stanza of the 
present poem seems to be a foreshadowing of the poet's 
death-bed remark to his wife. 

"Eobert Aiken" 
"Assist me Coila while I sing 
The virtues o' a crony 
That in the blessings friendships bring 
Has ne'er been match 'd by mony. 



* The best piece is unfortunately in too profane a vein for general 
circulation. It is a satire of twenty-one Sempiltonian stanzas, pur- 
porting to be a reply to David Sillar, who (in two verses, also quoted) 
had rebuked Burns for his frequent flippant rhyming references to 
King David the Psalmist, and shows K. B. on his Biblical and bardic 
mettle with crushing effect. Each verse to Sillar terminates with the 
refrain " Look up and See," which is also the title of the daring Epis- 
tle. From its reference to " Goudie," and from other allusions, the 
period of composition must have been about 1786. Several expert 
Burns students to whom this satire has been submitted concur with 
me in saying it is unquestionably a characteristic product of the Ayr- 
shire poet's racy pen. I have had a few copies printed for private 
circulation to be distributed among " the faithful," on request, until 
the small edition is exhausted. 

31 



462 HEKE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

And wha's the man sic laud to gain? — 
There can be nae mistaking 

As if there could be mair, than ane — 
Step forrat Robert Aiken! 

"When I had neither poun' nor plack 

To rub on ane anither; 
When hope's horizon seemed as black 

As midnicht a '-the-gither : 
When chased and challenged by the law 

My he'rt was aften quakin', 
Wha stude my steady fiere for a'? — 

0, wha but Robert Aiken! 

"When he and she baith young and auld 

Were bent on my undoin ' 
And tried by lees and scandals bauld 

To drive me clean to ruin: 
Wha never aince withdrew his smile, 

Or listened to the claikin'?— 
Ah, he's a frien' that's worth the while, 

A man like Robert Aiken! 

"When first I tried my rustic pen 

In little bits o' rhymin' 
Wha introduced me but and ben 

And helped me in my climbin'f 
Wha advertised abroad my name, 

'A minstrel in the makin',' 
Wha fairly read me into fame, 

But Lawyer Robert Aiken! 

"And when wi' muckle qualms I socht 

To get my poems printed, 
While mony ' frien V nae copies bocht 

And some, their orders stinted: 
Wha by the dizzen and the score 

The names to me was rakin'?— 
The King o' a' the buyin' corps 

Was surely Robert Aiken! 



FRESH MATTER ABOUT BURNS. 463 

1 ' The time will come when I '11 be deemed 

A poet grander, greater, 
Than ever prophesied or dreamed 

The loodest, proodest prater. 
Then let this fact be published too 

That at the bard's awakin' 
The truest, kindest friend he knew 

Was honest Robert Aiken ! ' ' 

Another item of the "Mavisgrove manuscripts" is a 
song signed "Johnnie Faa," but entitled "Song by 
Burns," the subject being "Elibanks and Elibraes." 
I have a vague recollection of seeing a song with this 
heading in the compilation that goes by the name of 
"The Merry Muses of Caledonia"— a trashy, little, 
bastard book that has for long been wrongly fathered 
on Burns. In one of the poet's letters, too, he refers 
to a futile attempt to write decent verses to the tune. 
It is possible that he returned to the theme— as he often 
did in such cases— and the following may be the result 
of another trial. He has assuredly written worse 
verses, and just as truly many better. So far as I know 
this is their first appearance in print. 

"Song by Burns. 

"0, Elibanks and Elibraes 

It was but aince I saw ye 
But a' my days I'll sing your praise 

Whaever may misca' ye. 
Your trees were in their freshest bloom, 

Your birds were singin' cheery 
When through your wavin' yellow broom 

I wander 'd wi' my dearie! 

' ' Eow sweet the siller mornin ' sped 
in cheerful contemplation ! 
How fast the gowden gloamin' fled 
In loving conversation! 



464 HERE AND THERE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

Noo doon the bank and up the brae 

How could I ever weary- 
In sic a place on sic a day 

Wi ' sic a bonnie dearie ! 

"0, Elibanks and Elibraes, 

Aye pleasant be your waters! 
May a' your sons hae winning ways, 

And lovely be your daughters ! 
My life to me maun surely be 

Existence dull and dreary 
If I forget the day we met 
When I was wi ' my dearie ! 

"Johnnie Faa." 

Among the scraps there is an "Address to Burns" 
by Colonel de Peyster which is quoted in Vol. L, p. 60, 
of the "De Peyster Miscellanies" referred to on page 
435 of this book. There is also a piece initialed "R. 
B." and docketed "From the Poet," bearing the title— 

"To Mr. Gow visiting in Dumfries." 
I quote it in full : 

(Air — Tullochgorum.) 

' ' Thrice welcome, King o ' Rant and Reel ! 
Whaur is the bard to Scotia leal 
Wha wadna sing o' sic a chiel 

And sic a glorious fiddle ! 
It's but a weary warl' at best, 
Wauf an' weary— af ten dreary— 
It's but a weary warl' at best, 

A wauf and weary widdle! 
It's but a weary warl' at best, 
Gang north or sooth or east or west, 
But we will never mak' protest 

When near you and your fiddle! 



FRESH MATTER ABOUT BURNS. 465 

"Let prosy parsons pray and preach 
And wise professors try to teach 
The secrets far beyond their reach 

As Stradivari's fiddle! 
We'll leave them to themsel's to read 
Things sae vexin'— and perplexin'— 
We'll leave them to themsel's to read 

Life's cabalistic riddle!— 
We'll leave them to themsel's to read 
To spin their scheme and mak' their creed; 
Come, screw your pins and gie's a screed 

Frae your unrivall 'd fiddle ! 

"Nae fabled wizard's wand, I trow 
Had e'er the magic airt o' Gow 
When wi ' a wave he draws his bow 

Across his wondrous fiddle! 
Sic fays and fairies come and dance — 
Lightly tripping— hopping, skipping— 
Sic fays and fairies come and dance, — 

Their maister in the middle ! 
Sic fays and fairies come and dance, 
So gently glide and spryly prance, 
And noo retreat and noo advance, 

When he strikes up his fiddle ! 

' ' In brisk strathspey or plaintive air 
What rival can wi' you compare? 
0, wha could think a hank o' hair 

Could thus transform a fiddle? 
What are the notes o' lyre or lute— 
Wizzent, wheezy— slim and sleezy — 
What are the notes o' lyre or lute?— 

Inconsequential diddle ! 
What are the notes o' lyre or lute 
0' pipe, piano, fife or flute 
Wi' a' that ye can execute, 

On your enchanting fiddle! 



4:66 HERE AND THEEE IN TWO HEMISPHERES. 

"Wha doesna joy to hear the ring 

0' ilka bonny lilt and spring 

That ye frae recollection bring 

And wheedle through your fiddle! 

The sumph that wadna praises gie 

Siccan measures — sicean pleasures— 

The sumph that wadna praises gie— 

I 'd toast him on a griddle ! 

The sumph that wadna praises gie 

A soulless clod maun surely be ; 

A chiel should never hae to dee 

That half like you can fiddle! 

"R. B." 

From the other sittings I finally select a lyric that 
almost seems an echo of "Wilt thou be my dearie?" 
Colonel de Peyster, as has been said, was himself an 
assiduous cultivator of the Muses and wrote frequently 
in the vernacular. He certainly was a superior poet 
to Robert Riddell, or Mrs. Dunlop, or the Guidwife of 
Wauehope House, but it would have been the most nat- 
ural thing for him to exchange verses with Burns, and 
to preserve carefully all communications from the Nith- 
side Laureate. So this is probably a Burns song also. 
The wonder of wonders to me is that the Mavisgrove 
library and archives have been so long overlooked by 
Burns students, but it is perhaps not too late yet to 
make a systematic examination of the papers admitted 
to be there. Burns manuscripts are not so valuable as 
Shakespeare autographs, but they are yet of sufficient 
importance to be worth their weight in gold, and to 
bring to light any new or unknown poems by Burns 
should be second only to announce that he was risen 
from the grave, again to charm and cheer us with his 
matchless lyre. As the following verses are neither 
signed nor endorsed, I have placed them last in this 
presentation. 




ARENT SCHUYLER de PEYSTER 

British Governor at Michilimackinac and Detroit, Michigan, 1 776—1785. Colonel of the 8th 

"King's Regiment Foot," oldest Line Regiment in the British Army. 

Born in New York 27th June, 1736. Died suddenly 26th November, 1824, 

at Dumfries, Scotland. 



fresh matter about burns. 467 

"Song, Ever to be Near Ye! 

Tune-" The Sutor's Dochter." 

"Ever to be near ye! 
Whaur ye bide or whaur ye stray, 

To comfort and to cheer ye ! 
Be your, fortune what it may, 

Hearken noo and hear ye: 
I'd be happy nicht and day 

Ever to be near ye ; 
Happy I'd be nicht and day 

Ever to be near ye ! 

' ' Ever to be near ye ! 
Neither rocks nor currents rife 

Ever need to fear ye 
Frae the stress and frae the strife 

Couthiely I'll steer ye,— 
Thro' the stormy sea o' life, 

Ever to be near ye! etc. 

"Ever to be near ye! 
Good and bonny as ye are 

Wha could nae revere ye? 
In your circle or afar 

Nane there is to peer ye:— 
O, for better or. for waur 

Ever to be near ye ! 
0, for better or for waur, 

Ever to be near ye ! " 






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